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PBEFACE. 



The aim in the volumes of this series is to pre- 
sent a satisfactory text of each play, modernized in 
spelling and punctuation, with as full an equip- 
ment of explanation and comment as is necessary 
for thorough intelligibility. The first section of 
the introduction is intended to give the student 
an idea of the place of the play in the history of 
the English drama in general, and of Shakspere's 
development in particular. The evidence for the 
date of the play has been given in some detail, as 
the mere statement of the facts helps to bring 
home the uncertainty which must be felt as to 
the authorship of many of the songs scattered 
through Shakspere's plays. 

In dealing with the source of the plot, I have 
given what, after a somewhat elaborate investiga- 
tion, I regard with some assurance as the truth. 
But it ought to be said that the view here stated, 
though accepted by many scholars, differs from 
that preferred by Dr. Furness in his recent 
Variorum edition of the play. For the reasons 
which lead me to differ from a scholar whom 
every student of Shakspere must regard with 
gratitude and honor, reference may be made to 
an article in the Atlantic Monthly for May, 1902. 



6 PREFACE. 

The extent to which Shakspere deviates from 
his source varies in every play, but the deviations 
themselves are always significant and worthy of 
the closest study. So far as space permitted, an 
attempt has been made to indicate the main 
points of difference between the versions of Eiche 
and Shakspere, and the teacher will find it 
extremely profitable to make a more elaborate 
comparison the basis of his aesthetic interpreta- 
tion. Such a method is comparatively easy to 
use, and at the same time affords scope for the 
most penetrating analysis and the most delicate 
appreciation that the classroom permits. 

The text of Apolonius and Silla is accessible 
in the reprint edited by J. Payne Collier for the 
Shakspere Society in 1846, in Furness's Vario- 
rum edition of Twelfth Night, and in Hazlitt's 
Shakespeare's Library, volume I. 

For further details on the life and works of 
Shakspere, the following books may be referred 
to: Dowden's Shakspere Primer and Shakspere, 
His Mind and Art; Sidney Lee's Life of William 
Shakespeare; William Shakespeare, by Barrett 
Wendell; Shakspere and his Predecessors, by 
F. S. Boas. The most exhaustive account of the 
English Drama is A. W. Ward's History of Eng- 
lish Dramatic Literature. Both this work and 
that of Sidney Lee are rich in bibliographical 
information. For questions of language and 
grammar see A. Schmidt's Shakespeare Lexicon; 



PREFACE. 7 

J. Bartlett's Concordance to Shakespeare; Little- 
dale's new edition of Dyce's Glossary to Shake- 
speare (New York, 1902), and E. A. Abbott's 
Shakespearian Grammar. For general questions 
of dramatic construction see Gustav Freytag's 
Technik des Dramas, translated into English by 
E. J. MacEwan; and Dr. Elisabeth Woodbridge's 
The Drama^ its Laws and its Technique. 

Harvard University, 
April, 1903. 



j 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface 5 

Introduction 

I. Shakspere and the English Drama . . 11 

II. Twelfth Night . . . ... 29 

Text 48 

Notes 156 

Word Index 186 



INTRODUCTION. 

I. SHAKSPERE AND THE ENGLISH DRAMA. 

The wonderful rapidity of the development of 
the English drama in the last quarter of the six- 
teenth century stands in striking contrast to the 
slowness of its growth before that period. The 
religious drama, out of which the modern dramatic 
forms were to spring, had dragged through centu- 
ries with comparatively little change, and was still 
alive when, in 1576, the first theatre was built in 
London. By 1600 Shakspere had written more 
than half his plays and stood completely master of 
the art which he brought to a pitch unsurpassed 
in any age. Much of this extraordinary later 
progress was due to contemporary causes; but 
there entered into it also certain other elements 
which can be understood only in the light of the 
attempts that had been made in the three or four 
preceding centuries. 

In England, as in Greece, the drama sprang from 
religious ceremonial. The Mass, the centre of 
The Drama *k e P u klic worship of the Eoman 
before church, contained dramatic mate- 

Shakspere. ^ ^ ^ gegtures of the offid _ 

ating priests, in the narratives contained in the 
Lessons, and in the responsive singing and chant- 

11 



12 ' INTRODUCTION. 

ing. Latin, the language in which the services 
were conducted, was unintelligible to the mass of 
the people, and as early as the fifth century the 
clergy had begun to use such devices as tableaux 
vivants of scenes like the marriage in Cana and 
the Adoration of the Magi to make comprehen- 
sible important events in Bible history. Later, 
the Easter services were illuminated by repre- 
sentations of the scene at the sepulchre on the 
morning of the Eesurrection, in which a wooden, 
and afterwards a stone, structure was used for the 
tomb itself, and the dialogue was chanted by differ- 
ent speakers representing respectively the angel, 
the disciples, and the women. From such begin- 
nings as this there gradually evolved the earliest 
forms of the Miracle Plat. 

As the presentations became more elaborate, 
the place of performance was moved first to the 
churchyard, then to the fields, and finally to the 
streets and open spaces of the towns. With this 
change of locality went a change in the language 
and in the actors, and an extension of the field from 
which the subjects were chosen. Latin gave way 
to the vernacular, and the priests to laymen ; and 
miracle plays representing the lives of patron 
saints were given by schools, trade gilds, and 
other lay institutions. A further development 
appeared when, instead of single plays, whole 
series such as the extant York, Chester, and 
Coventry cycles were given, dealing in chrono- 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 13 

logical order with the most important events in 
Bible history from the Creation to the Day of 
Judgment. 

The stage used for the miracle play as thus 
developed was a platform mounted on wheels, 
which was moved from space to space through 
the streets. Each trade undertook one or more 
plays, and, when possible, these were allotted with 
reference to the nature of the particular trade. 
Thus the play representing the visit of the Magi 
bearing gifts to the infant Christ was given to the 
goldsmiths, and the Building of the Ark to the 
carpenters. The costumes were conventional and 
frequently grotesque. Judas always wore red 
hair and a red beard ; Herod appeared as a fierce 
Saracen ; the devil had a terrifying mask and a 
tail ; and divine personages wore gilt hair. 

Meanwhile the attitude of the church towards 
these performances had changed. Priests were 
forbidden to take part in them, and as early as 
the fourteenth century we find sermons directed 
against them. The secular management had a 
more important result in the introduction of 
comic elements. Figures such as Noah's wife and 
Herod became frankly farcical, and whole episodes 
drawn from contemporary life and full of local 
color were invented, in which the original aim 
of edification was displaced by an explicit attempt 
at pure entertainment. Most of these features 
were characteristic of the religious drama in gen- 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

eral throughout Western Europe. But the local 
and contemporary elements naturally tended to 
become national ; and in England we find in these 
humorous episodes the beginnings of native 
comedy. 

Long before the miracle plays had reached their 
height, the next stage in the development of the 
drama had begun. Even in very early performances 
there had appeared, among the dramatis personae 
drawn from the Scriptures, personifications of 
abstract qualities such as Eighteousness, Peace, 
Mercy, and Truth. In the fifteenth century this 
allegorical tendency, which was prevalent also in 
the non-dramatic literature of the age, resulted in 
the rise of another kind of play, the Morality, 
in which all the characters were personifications, 
and in which the aim, at first the teaching of 
moral lessons, later became frequently satirical. 
Thus the most powerful of all the Moralities, 
Sir David Lindesay's Satire of the TJiree Estates, 
is a direct attack upon the corruption in the 
church just before the Eeformation. 

The advance ifaiplied in the Morality consisted 
not so much in any increase in the vitality of the 
characters or in the interest of the plot (in both 
of which, indeed, there was usually a falling off), 
as in the fact that in it the drama had freed 
itself from the bondage of having to choose its 
subject matter from one set of sources — the 
Bible, the Apocrypha, and the Lives of the Saints. 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 15 

This freedom was shared by the Interlude, a 
form not always to be distinguished from the 
Morality, but one in which the tendency was to 
substitute for personified abstractions actual 
social types such as the Priest, the Pardoner, or 
the Palmer. A feature of both forms was the 
Vice, a humorous character who appeared under 
the various disguises of Hypocrisy, Fraud, and 
the like, and whose function it was to make fun, 
chiefly at the expense of the Devil. The Vice 
is historically important as having bequeathed 
some of his characteristics to the Pool of the later 
drama. 

John Heywood, the most important writer of 
Interludes, lived well into the reign of Elizabeth, 
and even the miracle play persisted into the 
reign of her successor in the seventeenth cen- 
tury. But long before it finally disappeared 
it had become a mere medieval survival. A new 
England had meantime come into being and new 
forces were at work, manifesting themselves in a 
dramatic literature infinitely beyond anything 
even suggested by the crude forms which have 
been described. 

The great European intellectual movement 
known as the Renaissance had at last reached 
England, and it brought with it materials for an 
unparalleled advance in all the living forms of 
literature. Italy and the classics, especially, 
supplied literary models and material. Not only 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

were translations from these sources abundant, 
but Italian players visited England, and per- 
formed before Queen Elizabeth. France and 
Spain, as well as Italy, flooded the literary mar- 
ket with collections of tales, from which, both in 
the original languages and in such translations as 
are found in Paynter's Palace of Pleasure (pub- 
lished 1566-67), the dramatists drew materials 
for their plots. 

These literary conditions, however, did not do 
much beyond offering a means of expression. 
For a movement so magnificent in scale as that 
which produced the Elizabethan Drama, some- 
thing is needed besides models and material. In 
the present instance this something is to be found 
in the state of exaltation which characterized the 
spirit of the English people in the days of Queen 
Elizabeth. Politically, the nation was at last one 
after the protracted divisions of the Keformation, 
and its pride was stimulated by its success in the 
fight with Spain. Intellectually, it was sharing 
with the rest of Europe the exhilaration of the 
Renaissance. New lines of action in all parts of 
the world, new lines of thought in all depart- 
ments of scholarship and speculation, were open- 
ing up; and the whole land was throbbing with 
life. 

In its very beginnings the new movement in Eng- 
land showed signs of that combination of native 
tradition and foreign influence which was to char- 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 17 

acterize it throughout. The first regular English 
comedy, UdalPs Ralph Roister Doister was an 
adaptation of the plot of the Miles Gloriosus of 
Plautus to contemporary English life. After a 
short period of experiment by amateurs working 
chiefly under the influence of Seneca, we come on 
a band of professional playwrights who not only 
prepared the way for Shakspere, but in some 
instances produced works of great intrinsic worth. 
The mythological dramas of Lyly with the bright 
repartee of their prose dialogue and the music of 
their occasional lyrics, the interesting experiments 
of Greene and Peele, and the horrors of the 
tragedy of Kyd, are all full of suggestions of what 
was to come. But by far the greatest of Shaks- 
pere's forerunners was Christopher Marlowe, who 
not only has the credit of fixing blank yerse as the 
future poetic medium for English tragedy, but 
who in his plays from Tamlurlaine to Edward II 
contributed to the list of the great permanent 
masterpieces of the English drama. 

It was in the professional society of these men 
that Shakspere found himself when he came to 

London. Born in the provincial 
Buiy i!ue. S town of Stratford-on-Avon in the 

heart of England, he was bap- 
tized on April 26, 1564 (May 6th, according to 
our reckoning). The exact day of his birth is 
unknown. His father was John Shakspere, a 
fairly prosperous tradesman, who may be supposed 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

to have followed the custom of his class in edu- 
cating his son. If this were so, William would be 
sent to the Grammar School, already able to 
read, when he was seven, and there he would be 
set to work on Latin Grammar, followed by read- 
ing, up to the fourth year, in Cato's Maxims, 
Aesop's Fables, and parts of Ovid, Cicero, and 
the medieval poet Mantuanus. If he continued 
through the fifth and sixth years, he would read 
parts of Vergil, Horace, Terence, Plautus, and 
the Satirists. Greek was not usually taught in 
the Grammar Schools. Whether he went through 
this course or not we have no means of knowing, 
except the evidence afforded by the use of the 
classics in his works, and the famous dictum of 
his friend, Ben Jonson, that he had " small 
Latin and less Greek." What we are sure of is 
that he was a boy with remarkable acuteness of 
observation, who used his chances for picking up 
facts of all kinds ; for only thus could he have 
accumulated the fund of information which he 
put to such a variety of uses in his writings. 

Throughout the poet's boyhood the fortunes of 
John Shakspere kept improving until he reached 
the position of High Bailiff or Mayor of Stratford. 
When William was about thirteen, however, his 
father began to meet with reverses, and these are 
conjectured to have led to the boy's being taken 
from school early and set to work. What business 
he was taught we do not know, and indeed we 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 19 

have little more information about him till the 
date of his marriage in November, 1582, to Anne 
Hathaway, a woman from a neighboring village, 
who was seven years his senior. Concerning his 
occupations in the years immediately preceding 
and succeeding his marriage several traditions 
have come down, — of his having been apprenticed 
as a butcher, of his having taken part in poaching 
expeditions, and the like — but none of these is 
based upon sufficient evidence. About 1585 he 
left Stratford, and probably by the next year he 
had found his way to London. 

How soon and in what capacity he first became 
attached to the theatres we are again unable to 
say, but by 1592 he had certainly been engaged 
in theatrical affairs long enough to give some 
occasion for the jealous outburst of a rival play- 
wright, Robert Greene, who, in a pamphlet 
posthumously published in that year, accused him 
of plagiarism. Henry Chettle, the editor of 
Greene's pamphlet, shortly after apologized for his 
connection with the charge, and bore witness to 
Shakspere's honorable reputation as a man and to 
his skill both as an actor and a dramatist. 

Eobert Greene, who thus supplies us with the 
earliest extant indications of his rival's presence 
in London, was in many ways a typical figure among 
the playwrights with whom Shakspere worked 
during this early period. A member of both 
universities, Greene came to the metropolis while 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

yet a young man, and there led a life of the most 
diversified literary activity, varied with bouts of 
the wildest debauchery. He was a writer of 
satirical and controversial pamphlets, of romantic 
tales, of elegiac, pastoral, and lyric poetry, a 
translator, a dramatist, — in fact, a literary jack- 
of -all- trades. The society in which he lived con- 
sisted in part of "University Wits" like himself , 
in part of the low men and women who haunted 
the vile taverns of the slums to prey upon such as 
he. "A world of blackguardism dashed with 
genius," it has been called, and the phrase is fit 
enough. Among such surroundings Greene lived, 
and among them he died, bankrupt in body and 
estate, the victim of his own ill-governed passions. 
In conjunction with such men as this Shakspere 
began his life-work. His first dramatic efforts 
were made in revising the plays of his predeces- 
sors with a view to their revival on the stage ; and 
in Titus Andronicus and the first part of Henry 

VI. we have examples of this kind of work. 
The next step was probably the production of 
plays in collaboration with other writers, and to 
this practice, which he almost abandoned in the 
middle of his career, he seems to have returned in 
his later years in such plays as Pericles, Henry 

VIII. , and The Two Nolle Kinsmen. How far 
Shakspere was of this dissolute set to which his 
fellow- workers belonged it is impossible to tell; 
but we know that by and by, as he gained mastery 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 21 

over his art and became more and more independ- 
ent in work and in fortune, he left this sordid 
life behind him, and aimed at the establishment 
of a family. In half a dozen years from the time 
of Greene's attack, he had reached the top of his 
profession, was a sharer in the profits of his 
theatre, and had invested his savings in land and 
houses in his native town. The youth who ten 
years before had left Stratford poor and burdened 
with a wife and three children, had now become 
4 'William Shakspere, Gentleman." 

During these years Shakspere's literary work 
was not confined to the drama, which, indeed, 
was then hardly regarded as a form of literature. 
In 1593 he published Venus and Adonis^ and in 
1594, Lucrece, two poems belonging to a class of 
highly wrought versions of classical legends which 
was then fashionable, and of which Marlowe's 
Hero and Leander is the other most famous ex- 
ample. For several years, too, in the last decade 
of the sixteenth century and the first few years 
of the seventeenth, he was composing a series 
of sonnets on love and friendship, in this, too, 
following a literary fashion of the time. Yet 
these give us more in the way of self -revelation 
than anything else he has left. From them we 
seem to be able to catch glimpses of his attitude 
towards his profession, and one of them makes us 
realize so vividly his perception of the tragic risks 
of his surroundings that it is set down here : 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, 

The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
That did not better for my life provide 

Than public means which public manners breeds. 
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, 

And almost thence my nature is subdued 
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand : - 

Pity me then and wish I were renewed ; 
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink 

Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection ; 
No bitterness that I will bitter think, 

Nor double penance to correct correction. 
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye 

Even that your pity is enough to cure me. 

It does not seem possible to avoid the inferences 
lying on the surface in this poem ; but whatever 
confessions it may imply, it serves, too, to give us 
the assurance that Shakspere did not easily and 
blindly yield to the temptations that surrounded 
the life of the theatre of his time. 

For the theatre of Shakspere's day was no very 
reputable affair. Externally it appears to us now 
The Eliza- a Yer y mea g re apparatus — almost 
bethan absurdly so, when we reflect on the 

grandeur of the compositions for 
which it gave occasion. A roughly circular 
wooden building, with a roof over the stage 
and over the galleries, but with the pit often 
open to the wind and weather, having very 
little scenery and practically no attempt at the 
achievement of stage-illusion, — such was the 
scene of the production of some of the greatest 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 23 

imaginative works the world has seen. Nor was 
the audience very choice. The more respectable 
citizens of Puritan tendencies frowned on the 
theatre to such an extent that it was found advis- 
able to place the buildings outside the city limits, 
and beyond the jurisdiction of the city fathers. 
The pit was thronged with a motley crowd of 
petty tradesfolk and the dregs of the town ; the 
gallants of the time sat on stools on the stage, 
"drinking" tobacco and chaffing the actors, their 
efforts divided between displaying their wit and 
their clothes. The actors were all male, the 
women's parts being taken by boys whose voices 
were not yet broken. The costumes, frequently 
the cast-off clothing of the gallants, were often 
gorgeous, but seldom appropriate. Thus the suc- 
cess of the performance had to depend upon the 
excellence of the piece, the merit of the acting, 
and the readiness of appreciation of the audience. 
This last point, however, was more to be relied 
upon than a modern student might imagine. 
Despite their dubious respectability, the Eliza- 
bethan play-goers must have been of wonderfully 
keen intellectual susceptibilities. For clever feats 
in the manipulation of language, for puns, 
happy alliterations, delicate melody such as we 
find in the lyrics of the times, for the thunder of 
the pentameter as it rolls through the tragedies of 
Marlowe, they had a practiced taste. Qualities 
which we now expect to appeal chiefly to the 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

closet student were keenly relished by men wlio 
could neither read nor write, and who at the same 
time enjoyed jokes which would be too broad, and 
stage massacres which would be too bloody, for a 
modern audience of sensibilities' much less acute 
in these other directions. In it all we see how 
far-reaching was the wonderful vitality of the 
time. 

This audience Shakspere knew thoroughly, and 
in his writing he showed himself always, with 
shakspere's whatever growth in permanent ar- 
Dramatic tistic qualities, the clever man of 

Development. k us i negs w ith his eye on the mar- 
ket. Thus we can trace throughout the course 
of his production two main lines : one indicative 
of the changes of theatrical fashions ; one, more 
subtle and more liable to misinterpretation, show- 
ing the progress of his own spiritual growth. 

The chronology of Shakspere's plays will prob- 
ably never be made out with complete assurance, 
but already much has been ascertained (1) from 
external evidence such as dates of acting or pub- 
lication, and allusions in other works, and (2) 
from internal evidence such as references to books 
or events of known date, and considerations of 
metre and language. The following arrangement 
represents what is probably an approximately 
correct view of the chronological sequence of his 
works, though scholars are far from being agreed 
upon many of the details. 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 



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26 INTRODUCTION. 

The first of these groups contains three comedies 
of a distinctly experimental character, and a 
number of chronicle-histories, some of which, like 
the three parts of Henry VI. , were almost cer- 
tainly written in collaboration with other play- 
wrights. The comedies are light, full of ingen- 
ious plays on words, and the verse is often 
rhymed. The first of them, at least, shows the 
influence of Lyly. The histories also betray a 
considerable delight in language for its own sake, 
and the Marlowesque blank verse, at its best 
eloquent and highly poetical, not infrequently 
becomes ranting, while the pause at the end of 
each line tends to become monotonous. No copy 
of Borneo and Juliet in its earliest form is known 
to be in existence, and the extent of Shakspere's 
share in Titus Andronicus is still debated. 

The second period contains a group of comedies 
marked by brilliance in the dialogue ; wholesome- 
ness, capacity, and high spirits in the main char- 
acters, and a pervading feeling of good-humor. 
The histories contain a larger comic element than 
in the first period, and are no longer suggestive of 
Marlowe. Ehymes have become less frequent, and 
the blank verse has freed itself from the bondage 
of the end-stopped line. 

The plays of the third period are tragedies, or 
comedies with a prevailing tragic tone. Shaks- 
pere here turned his attention to those elements 
in life which produce perplexity and disaster, and 



SHAKSPERE AND ENGLISH DRAMA. 27 

in this series of masterpieces we have his most 
magnificent achievement. His power of perfect 
adaptation of language to thought and feeling 
had now reached its height, and his verse had 
become thoroughly flexible without having lost 
strength. 

In the fourth period Shakspere returned to 
comedy. These plays, written during his last 
years in London, are again romantic in subject 
and treatment, and technically seem to show the 
influence of the earlier successes of Beaumont and 
Fletcher. But in place of the high spirits which 
characterized the comedies of the earlier periods 
we have a placid optimism, and a recurrence of 
situations which are more ingenious than plausi- 
ble, and which are marked externally by reunions 
and reconciliations and internally by repentance 
and forgiveness. The verse is singularly sweet 
and highly poetical ; and the departure from the 
end-stopped line has now gone so far that we see 
clearly the beginnings of that tendency which 
went to such an extreme in some of Shakspere 's 
successors that it at times became hard to dis- 
tinguish the metre at all. 

In Two Noble Kinsmen and Henry VIII., 
Shakspere again worked in partnership, the col- 
laborator being, in all probability, John Fletcher. 

Nothing that we know of Shakspere's life from 
external sources justifies us in saying, as has 
frequently been said, that the changes of mood in 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

his work from period to period corresponded to 
changes in the man Shakspere. As an artist he 
certainly seems to have viewed life now in this 
light, now in that ; but it is worth noting that the 
period of his gloomiest plays coincides with the 
period of his greatest worldly prosperity. It has 
already been hinted, too, that much of his change 
of manner and subject was dictated by the vari- 
ations of theatrical fashion and the example of 
successful contemporaries. 

Throughout nearly the whole of these marvel - 
ously fertile years Shakspere seems to have stayed 
in London; but from 1610 to 1612 
iJasf^rs? ^ e was ma king Stratford more and 
more his place of abode, and at the 
same time he was beginning to write less. After 
1611 he wrote only in collaboration; and having 
spent about five years in peaceful retirement in 
the town from which he had set out a penniless 
youth, and to which he returned a man of reputa- 
tion and fortune, he died on April 23, 1616, His 
only son, Hamnet, having died in boyhood, of his 
immediate family there survived him his wife and 
his two daughters, Susanna and Judith, both of 
whom were well married. He lies buried in the 
parish church of Stratford* 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 29 



II. TWELFTH NIGHT. 

Twelfth Night was probably written in the 
latter part of 1601. The most direct evidence 
so far discovered bearing upon 
the date of the play is in the diary 
of John Manningham, a law student in the Middle 
Temple, in which the following passage occurs 
under the date of February 2, 1602: 

At our feast wee had a play called ''Twelve Night, 
or What You Will," much like the Commedy of 
Errores, or Menechmi in Plautus, but most like and 
neare to that in Italian called Inganni. 1 A good 
practise in it to make the Steward beleeve his Lady 
Widowe in love with him, by counterfeyting a letter as 
from his Lady in generall termes, telling him what shee 
liked best in him, and prescribing his gesture in 
smiling, his apparaile, &c. , and then when he came to 
practise making him beleeve they tooke him to be 
mad. 2 

1 Two sixteenth century Italian plays called GV In- 
ganni are extant, but neither contains the essential 
point of the plot of Twelfth Night, viz., the situation 
created by Orsino's sending Viola to woo Olivia. The 
facts that in all three there is a confusion of identity 
between a brother and a sister, and that one woman falls 
in love with another who is disguised as a man, are 
enough to account for Manningham's remark. On the 
other hand, GV Inganni may be a mere misspelling 
of GV Ingannati, for which see p. 32. 

3 The Diary of John Manningham, ed. by John Bruce 
for the Camden Society, Westminster, 1868, p. 18. 



30 INTRODUCTION. 

This fixes the later limit. If, as is supposed, 
the title of the play is derived from the date of 
its first performance, this limit must be moved 
back to January 6, 1602. 

The earlier limit is less definitely determined. 
In 1598 Francis Meres mentioned in his Pdlladis 
Tamict or WiVs Commonwealth, twelve of Shak- 
spere's plays, including all those which are gener- 
ally believed to have been written before that 
date. As Tivelfth Night is not found in this list, 
it is argued that it was unknown to Meres, and so 
presumably had not yet been produced. Again, 
a speech of Maria's affords a clue: "He does 
smile his face into more lines than is in the new 
map with the augmentation of the Indies" (III. 
ii. 86-88). This map has been identified with one 
published in 1599 to go with Hakluyt's Voyages. 
Finally, the play contains parts of two songs 
which are found elsewhere. The Clown's song, 
"0 Mistress mine, where are you roaming?'* 
(II. iii. 43 ff), has been found by Chappell in 
Morley's Consort Lessons, published in 1599, so 
that we must conclude either that Twelfth Night 
was written by that date, or that, as often was 
the case, an already existing song was introduced 
into the play. The song beginning "Farewell, 
dear heart" (II. iii. 116 ff), fragments of which are 
sung by Sir Toby and the Clown, appears in 
Robert Jones's Bookeof Ayres, published in 1601. 
The authorship of this song also is unknown; but 



TWELFTH NIGHT 31 

on account of the manner of its introduction into 
Tivelfth Night, and its slight poetical value, it is 
not usually claimed for Shakspere. Jones's col- 
lection is supposed to have consisted of new 
songs, so that if Shakspere drew it from this 
source, directly or indirectly, he must have com- 
posed this part of his play not earlier than 1601. 

Thus the comedy was certainly finished before 
January, 1602, was certainly not written before 
1599, and, as stated above, was probably written 
in the latter part of 1601. So dated it follows 
Much Ado about Nothing and As You Like It, 
and closes the trio of brilliant and high-spirited 
plays in which Shakspere's comic genius reached 
its finest expression. 

This play, like many others of Shakspere's, 

seems to have remained unpublished during his 

lifetime, and to have appeared in 

Text? e ° fthe P rint first in the earliest collected 
edition of his works, issued in 1623 
by the two actors, Heminge and Condell. This 
volume is usually known as the "First Folio," 
and from it the present text is taken, with a few 
alterations drawn from the later Folios and from 
the suggestions of modern editors. 

The story which forms the main plot of Twelfth 
Night appeared in a number of forms and lan- 
guages in the sixteenth century, and belongs 
to a type the variants of which are spread widely 
through the literature of that period. This par- 



32 INTRODUCTION. 

ticuiar form of the tale, however, is found first 
in an Italian comedy called GV Ingannati y pro- 
duced by a literary society in Sienna 

Source of the ^ jgg^ Qn thig p]ay ^ j^ 

ian novelist Bandello based a 
prose tale, which was translated into French by 
Belleforest, and into English (probably through 
the French) by Barnabe Eiche in his collection 
of short novels called Farewell to Militarie Pro- 
fession, 1581. It is from the version of the story 
contained in this volume, and there called 
Apolonius and Silla, that Shakspere seems to 
have drawn the plot of Twelfth Night. 

In transforming the novel into a play, Shak- 
spere has handled the story with great freedom. 
In the beginning of Kiche's version Silla (= Viola) 
falls in love with Apolonius (= Orsino) while he 
is visiting her father, but her love is not returned 
or even observed, owing to the young Duke's 
absorption in war and business. After he has 
left, Silla, accompanied only by a servant, sets 
out to seek him, has unpleasant adventures on 
shipboard, is wrecked, travels to Constantinople, 
and, in the disguise of a man, takes service with 
the Duke. All this introductory matter Shak- 
spere omitted, with the effect of making the 
action more compact both in place and in time. 
The relations of Olivia and Sebastian are much 
more delicately treated in the play than in the 
novel, and the action is again condensed in the 



TWELFTH NIGHT 33 

last scene. In Riche the brother leaves the city 
after having been entertained by Julina (= Olivia) ; 
gossip about Silla and Julina reaches the Duke's 
ears and leads to Silla's being thrown into a 
dungeon; Julina goes to the Duke to plead for 
Silla; Silla is sent for, denies having made any 
love-compact with Julina, and under threat of 
death reveals. her identity. Julina retires in sad 
perplexity, and the Duke marries Silla. The 
rumor of the marriage brings the brother back to 
the city, where he confesses his former visit and 
marries Julina. A comparison of this summary 
of events scattered over a considerable space of 
time with the arrangement by which all the 
threads are drawn together by Shakspere in the 
last scene of Ttuelfth Night, shows something of 
his method and skill. 

In characterization even more is due to the 
dramatist than in construction. The figures in 
Riche 's novel are in the play entirely re-created, 
and the sentimentalism of the Duke, as well as the 
appealing union of pathos and arch humor which 
makes the charm of Viola, is altogether the con- 
ception of Shakspere. 

Of the underplot there is no trace in Apolonius 
and Silla; and the characters of Sir Toby and Sir 
Andrew, Maria and Malvolio, Fabian and Feste, 
are all of Shakspere 's invention. In another 
story of Riche' s, however, in the same volume as 
Apolonius and Silla, there occurs an incident 



34 INTRODUCTION. 

which I believe to have suggested the charge of 
madness in Malvolio and the scene in the dark 
house, and which is so illuminating as to the way 
in which Shakspere gathered and adapted his 
material that it is worth while to give the passage. 
In the story Of Tivo Brethren and Their Wives, 
the younger brother married a rich woman who 
turned out an inveterate scold. After enduring 
much he adopted heroic measures. With the 
assistance of a neighbor he dressed her in rags, 
tied her in a dark house, with a great chain 
about her leg, and then 

callyng his neibours about her, he would seeme with 
greate sorrowe to lament his wives distresse, telling 
them that she was sodainly become lunatique ; whereas, 
by his geasture, he tooke so greate greefe, as though he 
would likewise have runne madde for companie. But 
his wife (as he had attired her) seemed in deede not to 
be well in her wittes; but, seeyng her housebandes 
maners, shewed her self in her conditions to bee a right 
Bedlem : she used no other wourdes but cursynges and 
banninges, criyng for the plague and the pestilence, and 
that the devill would teare her housbande in peeces. 
The companie that were about her, thei would exhorte 
her, Good neighbour, forget these idle speeches, which 
doeth so muche distemper you, and call upon God, and 
he will surely helpe you. — Call upon God for help? 
(quoth the other) wherein should he helpe me, un- 
lesse he would consume this wretche with fire and 
brimstone? other help I have no need of. Her house- 
ban de, he desired his neighbours, for God's love, that 
thei would helpe him to praie for her ; and thus, alto- 
gether kneeling doune in her presence, he beganne to 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 35 

saie, Miserere, whiche all theie saied after him; but 
this did so spight and vexe her, that she never gave 
over her railyng and ragyng againste them all. 

Twelfth Night is written mainly in blank verse, 
which, since Marlowe, had been the standard metre 
of the English Drama. Exceptions 
are found m the prose 01 the narra- 
tive scene, II. i., of the scenes in which the char- 
acters of the underplot appear as the chief actors, 
and of passages of repartee such as I. v. 186-266. 
This is in accordance with Shakspere's regular 
habit of using prose for the speeches of servants 
and humble persons generally, for farce, and often 
for matter-of-fact narrative, while the employ- 
ment of verse indicates a higher emotional and 
imaginative level of both action and dialogue. 

The normal type of the blank verse has five 
iambic feet, that is, ten syllables with the verse 
accent falling on the even syllables. From this 
regular form, however, Shakspere deviates with 
great freedom, the commonest variations being 
the following : 

1. The addition of an eleventh syllable; e.g. : 

So please | my lord, | I might | not be | admit | ted, 

I. i. 24 
And speak | to him | in ma | ny sorts | of mu | sic 
That will | allow | me ve | ry worth \ his ser j vice, 

I. ii. 58-59. 
Occasionally this extra syllable occurs in the 
middle of the line, at the main pause known as 



36 INTRODUCTION. 

the caesura, which is most frequent after the third 
foot; e.g. : 

Stealing | and giv | ing o | dour. || Enough ! | no more | ! 

I. i. 7. 
E*er since | pursue | me. || How now! | what news | 

from her? | I. i. 23. 

2. Frequently what seems an extra syllable is 
to be slurred in reading; thus " spirit" is mono- 
syllabic in 

O spirit | of love, | how quick | and fresh | art thou | , 
I. i. 9. 

So the middle syllable of "natural" is slurred in 

A na | tural per | spective, | that is | and is | not, V. i. 
224. 

In some lines it is doubtful whether a syllable 
is to be slurred or sounded as a light extra 
syllable; as, e. g., the second syllable of "cere- 
mony" in 

And all | the cere | mony | of this | compact, V. i. 164. 

3. Short lines lacking one or more feet occur, 
especially at the beginning or end of a speech; 
e.g.: 

He was a bachelor then, I. ii. 29. 
No, not the duke's, I. ii 46. 
What is your parentage? I. v. 308. 

4. Long lines of twelve or thirteen syllables 
occur; e.g. : 



TWELFTH NIGHT. J7 

Do give | thee five- | fold bla | zon. Not | too fast! J 

Soft, soft! I. v. 324. 
That do | renown | this ci | ty. Would | you par § don 

we, III. iii. 24. 
You throw | a strange | regard | upon | me, and $ by 

that, V. i. 219. 
That tyr | annous heart | can think? | To one | of your | 

receiving, III. i. 130. 

In such lines some words bearing the metrical 
accent are quite unemphatic in reading. 

5. Frequently, especially in the first foot, a 
trochee is substituted for an iambus, i.e., the 
accent falls on the odd instead of on the even 
syllable; e.g. : 

Give me ] excess of it, that, surfeiting, I. i. 2. 

Courage | and hope both teaching him the practice. 
I. ii. 13. 

In the following line the first and third feet are 
anapaests, i.e., have two unstressed syllables 
before the accent : 

Let me speak | a lit | tie. This youth | that you ( see 
here | , III. iv. 399. 

6. It must be remembered, however, that some 
words have changed their pronunciation since 
Shakspere's time. Thus the noun ' 'compact" 
had the accent on the second syllable, as in 

And all the ceremony of this j compact, V. i. 164. 

So access in I. iv. 17, aspect in I. iv. 29, record 
in V. i. 253; and conversely, antique in II. iv. 3, 
perspective in V. i. 224, etc. 



38 INTRODUCTION. 

Again, terminations like "-tion" were often 
dissyllabic, as in 

Her sweet | perfec | ti-ons | with one | self king | , 

I. i. 39. 
I know | not what | 'twas but | distrac | ti-on j , V. i. 61. 

In M remembrance" and " country" in the fol- 
lowing lines, the r is syllabified : 

And las | ting in | her sad | remem | b(e)rance | , I. i/32. 
The like | of him. | Know'st thou | this coun | t(e)ry | , 
I. ii. 21. 

Although differences between the language of 
Shakspere and that of our own day are obvious 
to the most casual reader, there is a 
risk that the student may under- 
estimate the extent of these differences, and, 
assuming that similarity of form implies identity 
of sense, miss the true interpretation. The most 
important instances of change of meaning are 
explained in the notes ; but a clearer view of the 
nature and extent of the contrast between the 
idiom of Twelfth Night and that of modern 
English will be gained by a classification of the 
most frequent features of this contrast. Some of 
the Shaksperean usages are merely results of the 
carelessness and freedom which the more elastic 
standards of the Elizabethan time permitted; 
others are forms of expression at that time quite 
accurate, but now become obsolete. 

1. Nou^s. Shakspere frequently uses an 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 39 

abstract noun with "of" where modern English 
has an adjective; e.g.: in I. v. 72, "Mouse of 
virtue" = virtuous mouse. Conversely, in I. iv. 
22, "civil bounds" = bounds of civility. 

2. Pronouns, (a) The nominative is some- 
times used for the objective, especially after 
prepositions; e.g.: "Save I," III. i. 171. 

(b) "His" is sometimes used instead of the 
sign of the possessive case; e.g. : "The count his 
galleys," III. iii. 26. 

(c) The ethical dative is commoner in Shak- 
spere than in modern speech; e.g. : 

Will either of you bear me a challenge to him, III. 

ii. 44. 
Scout me for him at the corner, III. iv. 197. 
Build me thy fortunes, III. ii. 36. 

(d) The modern distinctions among the rela- 
tive pronouns who, which, that, as, is not observed 
by Shakspere; e.g. : 

And in such forms which here were presupposed, V. i. 
360. 

(e) The objective case of the personal pronouns 
is at times used reflexively where modern English 
requires no object; e.g.: "I fear me," III. i. 124; 
"Now I remember me," Y. i. 286. 

3. Verbs, (a) A singular verb is often found 
with a plural subject; e.g.: 

There is no woman's sides, II. iv. 94. 

When wit and youth is come to harvest, III. i. 142. 

Daylight and champaign discovers not more, II. v. 175. 



40 INTRODUCTION. 

(b) A plural verb is often found with a singular 
subject, through the attraction of an intervening 
plural; e.g. : 

Every one of these letters are in my name, II. v. 152-53. 
My soul the faithfull'st offerings have breathed out, 
V. i. 118. 

Each circumstance 
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump, V. i. 258-59. 

(c) The "n" is frequently dropped from the 
ending of the past participle of strong verbs in 
cases where it is retained at the present day; e.g. : 
"spoke" for "spoken," I. iv. 21. When the 
word thus produced might be mistaken for the 
infinitive, the form of the past tense is found; 
e.g.: "took" for "taken," I. v. 294; "mistook" 
for "mistaken," V. i. 266, where the form "take" 
would have been ambiguous. 

(d) Verbs of motion are at times omitted; e.g. : 

I will A on with my speech, I. v. 212. 
Shall I A to this lady, II. iv. 123. 
A Presently after him, III. iv. 223. 

(e) "To" is sometimes used with the infinitive 
where it is omitted in modern English; e.g. : 

I had rather hear you to solicit, III. i. 119. 

The converse is more frequent than it is in con- 
temporary speech; e.g. : 

Will you go a hunt, I. i. 16. 

First go a see your lodging, III. iii. 20. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 41 

(f) The infinitive with "to" is sometimes used 
for the gerund with another preposition; e.g.: 

You might have saved me my pains, to have taken 
( = by taking) it away yourself, II. ii. 57. 

Under your hard construction must I sit 

To force (= by forcing) that on you, III. i. 125-26. 

4. Adverbs, (a) Double and triple negatives 
are used with a merely intensive force; e.g. : "Nor 
no railing," I. v. 108; "Nor will you not," II. i. 1 ; 
"Nor never none," III. i. 170; "Nor this is not 
my nose neither," IV. i. 8-9. 

(b) The form of the adjective is oftep. used for 
the adverb; e.g.: "For his sake did I expose 
myself, pure for his love," V. i. 87. 

5. Prepositions, (a) The usage in preposi- 
tions was less definite than it is to-day. Thus 
"of" = "on" in "What bestow of him?" III. iv. 
2; "with" = "of" or "from" in "This comes 
with seeking you," III. iv. 372; "up" = "out" 
in "Make up that," II. v. 132. 

(b) Occasionally prepositions were used where 
in modern English the verb takes a direct object ; 
e.g. : "To flatter with his lord," I. v. 335. 



I* 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



y gentlemen attending on the Duke. 



DRAMATIS PERSONAE. 

Orsino, Duke of Ulyria. 

Sebastian, brother to Viola. 

Antonio, a sea captain, friend to Sebastian. 

A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. 

Valentine, , 

Curio, 

Sir Toby Belch, uncle to Olivia. 

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 

Malvolio, steward to Olivia. 

t, ' 7 [servants to Olivia. 

Feste, a clown, \ 

Olivia, a rich countess. 

Viola. 

Maria, Olivia's woman. 

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, 
and other Attendants. 

Scene: A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it. 



44 



TWELFTH XIGHT: 

OR, 

WHAT YOU WILL. 
ACT FIRST. 

Scene I. 

A room in the Duke's palace. 

Enter Duke, Curio, and other Lords; Musicians 
attending. 

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on! 
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, 
The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
That strain again! It had a dying fall, 
i 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing and giving odour. Enough! no 

more ! 
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. 
spirit of love, how quick and fresh art 

thou, 
That, notwithstanding thy capacity 
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, 
Of what validity and pitch soe'er, 

45 



46 TWELFTH NIGHT. r [Act I. Sc. i. 

But falls into abatement and low price 
Even in a minute ! So full of shapes is fancy 
That it alone is high fantastical. 15 

Our. Will you go hunt, my lord? 

Duke. What, Curio? 

Gut. The hart. 

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have. 
0, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
Methought she purged the air of pestilence ! 20 
That instant was I turned into a hart ; 
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, 
E'er since pursue me. 

Enter Valentine. 
How now ! what news from her? 

Vol. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, 
But from her handmaid do return this 25 

answer : 
The element itself, till seven years' heat, 
Shall not behold her face at ample view ; 
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled w r alk, 
And water once a day her chamber round 
With eye-offending brine: all this to season 30 
A brother's dead love, which she would keep 

fresh 
And lasting in her sad remembrance. 

Duke. 0, she that hath a heart of that fine frame 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
How will she love when the rich golden shaft 35 
Hath killed the flock of all affections else 
That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart, 



Act I. Sc. ii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 47 

These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, 

and filled 
Her sweet perfections with one self king ! 
40 Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ; 

Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with 

bowers. [Exeunt. 



Scene II. 

The sea-coast. 
Enter Viola, a Captain, and Sailors. 

Vio. What country, friends, is this? 
Cap. This is Hlyria, lady. 
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? 
My brother he is in Elysium. 
5 Perchance he is not drowned. What think 
you, sailors? 
Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were saved. 
Vio. my poor brother ! and so perchance may 

he be. 
Cap. True, madam; and, to comfort you with 
chance, 
Assure yourself, after our ship did split, 
io When you and those poor number saved with 
you 
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your 

brother, 
Most provident in peril, bind himself, 



L 



48 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Aot I. Sc. ii. 

Courage and hope both teaching him the 

practice, 
To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ; 
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, 15 
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves 
So long as I could see. 

Vio. For saying so, there's gold. 

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, 
Whereto thy speech serves for authority, 20 
The like of him. Know'st thou this country? 

Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born 
Not three hours' travel from this very place. 

Vio. Who governs here? 

Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name. 25 

Vio. What is his name? 

Cap. Orsino. 

Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him. 
He was a bachelor then. 

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late; 30 

For but a month ago I went from hence, 
And then 'twas fresh in murmur — as, you 

know, 
What great ones do the less will prattle of — 
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. 

Vio. What's she? 35 

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 
That died some twelvemonth since, then 

leaving her 
In the protection of his son, her brother, 
Who shortly also died ; for whose dear love, 



ActI. So. ii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. *9 

40 They say, she hath abjured the company 
And sight of men. 
Via. that I served that lady, 

And might not be delivered to the world, 
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, 
What my estate is ! 
Gap. That were hard to compass, 

45 Because she will admit no kind of suit, 

No, not the duke's. 
Via. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; 
And though that nature with a beauteous 

wall 
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
5 ° I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 
With this thy fair and outward character. 
I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, 
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid 
For such disguise as haply shall become 
*■-> The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke. 
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him. 
It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing 
And speak to him in many sorts of music 
That will allow me very worth his service. 
60 What else may hap to time I will commit, 
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. 
Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be. 
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes 
not see. 
Vio. I thank thee. Lead me on. [Exeunt. 



50 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. iii. 

Scene III. 

A room in Olivia- s Jiouse. 
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria. 

Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take 
the death of her brother thus? I am sure 
care's an enemy to life. 

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in 
earlier o' nights. Your cousin, my lady, 5 
takes great exceptions to your ill hours. 

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. 

Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within 
the modest limits of order. 

Sir To. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer 10 
than I am. These clothes are good enough 
to drink in, and so be these boots too; an 
they be not, let them hang themselves in 
their own straps. 

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you. is 
I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of 
a foolish knight that you brought in one 
night here to be her wooer. 

Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek? 

Mar. Ay, he. 20 

Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. 

Mar. What's that to the purpose? 

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a 
year. 



Act I. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 51 

25 Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these 
ducats. He's a very fool and a prodigal. 
Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! He plays o' the 
viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four 
languages word for word without book, and 
30 hath all the good gifts of nature. 
Mar. He hath indeed, almost natural ; for besides 
that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and 
but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay 
the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought 
35 among the prudent he wonld quickly have 
the gift of a grave. 
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and 
substractors that say so of him. Who are 
they? 
40 Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk 
nightly in your company. 
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. I'll 
drink to her as long as there is a passage in 
my throat and drink in Illyria. He's a 
45 coward and a coystrill that will not drink to 
my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a 
parish-top. What, wench ! Castiliano vulgo ! 
for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. 
Enter Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby 
so Belch ! 
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! 
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. 
Mar. And you too, sir. 



52 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. iii. 

Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. 

Sir And. What's that? 55 

Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. 

Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better 

acquaintance. 
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. 

Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost, — 60 

Sir To. You mistake, knight. "Accost" is front 

her, board her, woo her, assail her. 
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake 

her in this company. Is that the meaning 

Of "aCCOSt"? 65 

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. 

Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would 

thou mightst never draw sword again. 
Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I. 

might never draw sword again. Pair lady, 70 

do you think you have fools in hand? 
Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. 
Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's 

my hand. 
Mar. Now, sir, "thought is free." I pray you, 75 

bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it 

drink. 
Sir And. Wherefore, sweet-heart? What's your 

metaphor? 
Mar. It's dry, sir. so 

Sir And. Why, I think so. I am not such an ass 

but I can keep my hand dry. But what's 

your jest? 



Act I. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 53 

Mar. A dry jest, sir. 
85 Sir And. Are you full of them? 
Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends. 
* Marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. 

[Exit 
Sir To. knight, thou lackest a cup of canary. 
When did I see thee so put down? 
90 Sir And. Never in your life, I think, unless you 
see canary put me down. Methinks some- 
times I have no more wit than a Christian or 
an ordinary man has ; but I am a great eater 
of beef and I believe that does harm to my 
95 wit. 
Sir To. No question. 
Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. 

I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. 
Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight? 
ioo Sir And. What is "pourquoi"? Do or not do? 
I would I had bestowed that time in the 
tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and 
bear-baiting. 0, had I but followed the arts! 
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head 
105 of hair. 

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? 
Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest it will not 

curl by nature. 
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't 
no not? 

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a 
distaff. . . . 



54 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. iii. 

Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. 
Your niece will not be seen, or if she be, it's 
four to one she'll none of me. The count 115 
himself here hard by woos her. 

Sir To. She'll none o' the count. She'll not 
match above her degree, neither in estate? 
years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. 
Tut, there's life in't, man. 120 

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow 
o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight 
in masques and revels sometimes altogether. 

Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshawses, 
knight? 125 

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he 
be, under the degree of my betters ; and yet 
I will not compare with an old man. 

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, 
knight? 130 

Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper. 

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't. 

Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick 
simply as strong as any man in Illyria. 

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? Where- 135 
fore have these gifts a curtain before 'em? 
Are they like to take dust, like Mistress 
Mall's picture? Why dost thou not go to 
church in a galliard and come home in a 
coranto? My very walk should be a jig. ... 140 
What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide 
virtues in? I did think, by the excellent 



Act I. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 55 

constitution of thy leg, it was formed under 

the star of a galliard. 
145 Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent 

well in a dam'd coloured stock. Shall we 

set about some revels? 
Sir To. What shall we do else? Were we not 

born under Taurus? 
150 Sir And. Taurus! That's sides and heart. 
Sir To. No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me 

see thee caper. Ha! Higher! Ha, ha! 

Excellent ! [Exeunt. 



Sceke IV. 

A room in the Duke's palace. 
Miter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. 

Vol. If the duke continue these favours towards 
you, Cesario, you are like to be much 
advanced. He hath known you but three 
days, and already you are no stranger. 
5 Vio. You either fear his humour or my negli- 
gence, that you call in question the continu- 
ance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his 
favours? 
Val. No, believe me. 
10 Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. 
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? 



56 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. iv. 

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. 

Duke. Stand you a while aloof. Cesario, 

Thou know'st no less but all. I have 

unclasped 
To thee the book even of my secret soul; 15 
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto 

her. 
Be not denied access, stand at her doors, 
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow 
Till thou have audience. 

Vio. Sure, my noble lord, 

If she be so abandoned to her sorrow 20 

As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 

Duke. Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds 
Rather than make unprofited return. 

Vio. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what 
. then? 

Duke. 0, then unfold the passion of my love, 25 
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith. 
It shall become^ thee well to act my woes. 
She will attend it better in thy youth 
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. 

Vio. I think not so, my lord. 

Duke. Dear lad, believe it; so 

For they shall yet belie thy happy years, 
That say thou art a man. Diana's lip 
Is not more smooth and rubious, thy small 

pipe 
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, 
And all is semblative a woman's part. S5 



Act I. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 57 

I know thy constellation is right apt 

For this affair. Some four or five attend 

him, — 
All, if you will; for I myself am best 
When least in company. Prosper well in 
this, 
40 And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, 
. To call his fortunes thine. 
Via. I'll do my best 

To woo your lady, — [aside] yet, a barful 

strife ! 
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. 

[Exeunt. 



Scene V. 

A room in Olivia's house. 
Enter Maria and Clown, 

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, 
or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle 
may enter, in way of thy excuse. My lady 
will hang thee for thy absence. 
5 Olo. Let her hang me! He that is well hanged 
in this world needs to fear no colours. 

Mar. Make that good. 

Olo. He shall see none to fear. 

Mar. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee 



r 



58 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 

Where that saying was born, of "I fear noio 
fcolours." 

Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary? 

Mar.. In the wars ; and that may you be bold to 
say in your foolery. 

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; is 
and those that are fools, let them use their 
talents. 

Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long 
absent; or, to be turned away, is not that as 
good as a hanging to you? 20 

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- 
riage; and, for turning away, let summer 
bear it out. 

Mar. You are resolute, then? 

Clo. Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two 25 
points. 

Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, 
if both break, your gaskins fall. 

Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt. Well, go thy 
way. If Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou 30 
wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in 
Illyria. 

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more 0' that. Here 
comes my lady. Make your excuse wisely, 
you were best. \Exit. 35 

Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good 
fooling! Those wits, that think they have 
thee, do very oft prove fools ; and I, that am 
mire I lack thee, may pass for a wise man ; 



Act I. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 59 

lo for what says Quinapalus? "Better a witty- 
fool than a foolish wit." 
Enter Lady Olivia and retinue with Malvolio. 
God bless thee, lady ! 

Oli, Take the fool away. 

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the 
lady. 

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool, I'll no more of you ; 
besides, you grow dishonest. 

Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good 
counsel will amend; for give the dry fool 
so drink, then is the fool not dry : bid the dis- 
honest man mend himself; if he mend, he is 
no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the 
botcher mend him. Any thing that's 
mended is but patched; virtue that trans- 
55 gresses is but patched with sin, and sin that 
amends is but patched with virtue. If that 
this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will 
not, what remedy? As there is no true 
cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower. 
6o The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, 
I say again, take her away. 

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. 

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, 

"cucullus non facit monachum"; that's as 

65 much to say as I wear not motley in my 

brain. Good madonna, give me leave to 

prove you a fool. 

Oli. Can you do it? 



60 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 

Olo. Dexteriously, good madonna. 

Oli. Make your proof. 70 

Olo. I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good 
my mouse of virtue, answer me. 

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 
bide your proof. 

Olo. Good madonna, why mournest thou? 75 

Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. 

Olo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. 

Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 

Olo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your 
brother's soul being in heaven. Take away so 
the fool, gentlemen. 

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? 
Doth he not mend? 

Mai. Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death 
shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, 85 
doth ever make the better fool. 

Olo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for 
the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby 
will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will 
not pass his word for twopence that you are so 
no fool. 

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? 

Mai. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such 
a barren rascal. I saw him put down the 
other day with an ordinary fool that has no 95 
more brain than a stone. Look you now, 
he's out of his guard already. Unless you 
laugh and minister occasion to him, he is 



Act I. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 61 

gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, 
100 that crow so at these set kind of fools, no 
better than the fools' zanies. 
Oli. 0, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and 
taste with a distempered appetite. To be 
generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is 
105 to take those things for bird-bolts that you 
deem cannon-bullets. There is no slander in 
an allowed fool, though he do nothing but 
rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, 
though he do nothing but reprove, 
no Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for 
thou speakest well of fools ! 
Re-enter Maria. 
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentle- 
man much desires to speak with you. 
Oli. From the Count Orsino, is it? 
n?> Mar. I know not, madam. 'Tis a fair young 
man, and well attended. 
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? 
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. 
Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you. He speaks 
120 nothing but madman; fie on him! [Exit 
Maria.] Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit 
from the count, I am sick, or not at home, — 
what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.'] 
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, 
1-25 and people dislike it. 

Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy 
eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove 



62 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 

cram with brains ! for — here he comes — one 

of thy kin has a most weak pia mater. 
Enter Sir Toby. 
Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he ise 

at the gate, cousin? 
Sir To. A gentleman. 
Oli. A gentleman ! What gentleman? 
Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here — a plague o' these 

pickle-herring! How now, sot! 135 

Clo. Good Sir Toby! 
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early 

by this lethargy? 
Sir To. [Lethargy]! I defy [lethargy]. There's 

one at the gate. 140 

Oli. Ay, marry, what is he? 
Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care 

not; give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. 

[Exit. 
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? 
Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a mad man. *& 

One draught above heat makes him a fool, 

the second mads him, and a third drowns 

him. 
Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner and let him 

sit o' my coz, for he's in the third degree of iso 

drink, he's drowned. Go, look after him. 
Olo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool 

shall look to the madman. [Exit. 

Re-enter Malvolio. 
Mai. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will 



AcrI.Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 63 

155 speak with you. I told him you were sick. 
He takes on him to understand so much, and 
therefore comes to speak with you. I told 
him you were asleep. He seems to have a 
foreknowledge of that too, and therefore 
160 comes to speak with you. What is to be said 
to him, lady? He's fortified against any denial. 
Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. 
Mai. Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand 
at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the 
165 supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with 
you. 
Oli. What kind o' man is he? 
Mai. Why, of mankind. 
Oli. What manner of man? 
no Mai. Of very ill manner. He'll speak with you, 
will you or no. 
Oli. Of what personage and years is he? 
Mai. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young 
enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a 
175 peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an 
apple. 'Tis with him in standing water, 
between boy and man. He is very well- 
favoured and he speaks very shrewishly. 
One would think his mother's milk were 
180 scarce out of him. 

OIL Let him approach. Call in my gentle- 
woman. 
Mai. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. 

Re-enter Maria. 



64 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 

Oli. Give me my veil. Come, throw it o'er 
my face. 
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. 185 

Enter Viola and Attendants. 

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is 
she? 

Oli. Speak to me ; I shall answer for her. Your 
will? 

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable 190 
beauty,— I pray you, tell me if this be the 
lady of the house, for I never saw her. I 
would be loath to cast away my speech, for 
besides that it is excellently well penned, I 
have taken great pains to con it. Good 195 
beauties, let me sustain no scorn. I am very 
comptible, even to the least sinister usage. 

OIL Whence came you, sir? 

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, 
and that question's out of my part. Good2oo^ 
gentle one, give me modest assurance if you 
be the lady of the house, that I may proceed 
in my speech. 

Oli. Are you a comedian? 

Vio. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the 205 
very fangs of malice I swear, I am not that 
I play. Are you the lady of the house? 

Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. 

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp 
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not 210 
yours to reserve. But this is from my com- 



Act I. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 65 

mission. I will on with my speech in your 
praise, and then show you the heart of my 
message, 
sis Oli. Come to what is important in't. I forgive 
you the praise. 
Via. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis 

poetical. 

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned. I pray 

220 you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at 

my gates, and allowed your approach rather 

to wonder at you than to hear you. If you 

be not mad, be gone. If you have reason, be 

brief. 'Tis not that time of moon with me 

225 to make one in so skipping a dialogue. 

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your 

way. 
Vio. JSTo, good swabber, I am to hull here a little 
longer. Some mollification for your giant, 
230 sweet lady. Tell me your mind. I am a 
messenger. 
Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to 
deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. 
Speak your office. 
235 Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no 
overture of war, no taxation of homage. I 
hold the olive in my hand. My words are as 
full ot peace as matter. 
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What 
240 would you? 

Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me 



i 



66 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 

have I learned from my entertainment. 

What I am, and what I would, are as secret 

as maidenhead; to your ears, divinity, to 

any other's, profanation. 245 

Oli. Give us the place alone; we will hear this 

divinity. [Exeunt Maria and Attendants.] 

Now, sir, what is your text? 
Vio. Most sweet lady, — 
Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much jmay be 250 

said of it. Where lies your text? 
Vio. In Orsino's bosom. 
Oli. In his bosom ! In what chapter of his 

bosom? 
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his 255 

heart. 
Oli. 0, I have read it. It is heresy. Have you 

no more to say? 
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. 
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to 260 

negotiate with my face? You are now out of 

your text, but we will draw the curtain and 

show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a 

one I was — this present. Is't not well done? 

[ Unveiling. 
Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. 265 

Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and 

weather. 
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white 

Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. 

Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, 270 



ActI. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 07 

If you will lead these graces to the grave 
And leave the world no copy. 
Oli. 0, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will 
give out divers schedules of my beauty. It 
275 shall be inventoried, and every particle and 
utensil labelled to my will: as, item, two 
lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, 
with lids to them ; item, one neck, one chin, 
and so forth. Were you sent hither to 
«8o praise me? 

Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud ; 
But, if you were the devil, you are fair. 
My lord and master loves you. 0, such love 
Could be but recompensed, though you were 
crowned 
285 The nonpareil of beauty! 

Oli. How does he love me? 

Vio. With adorations, fertile tears, 

With groans that thunder love, with sighs of 

fire. 

Oli. Your lord does know my mind. I cannot 

love him. 

Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble ; 

290 Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; 

In voices well divulged, free, learned, and 

valiant, 
And in dimension and the shape of nature 
A gracious person. But yet I cannot love 

him. 
He might have took his answer long ago. 



68 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, 2& 
With such a suffering, such a deadly life, 
In your denial I would find no sense, 
I would not understand it. 

OIL Why, what would you? 

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 

And call upon my soul within the house ; 800 

Write loyal cantons of contemned love 

And sing them loud even in the dead of 

night; 
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out "Olivia!" 0, you should not rest 305 
Between the elements of air and earth, 
But you should pity me ! 

Oli. You might do much. 

What is your parentage? 

Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. 
I am a gentleman. 

Oli. Get you to your lord. 3io 

I cannot love him. Let him send no more, — 
Unless, perchance, you come to me again 
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well! 
I thank you for your pains. Spend this for 
me. 

Vio. I am no feed post, lady. Keep your purse. 3 * 5 
My master, not myself, lacks recompense. 
Love make his heart of flint that you shall 

love; 
And let your fervour, like my master's, be 



Act I. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 69 

Placed in contempt ! Farewell, fair cruelty. 

[Exit. 
320 Oli. "What is your parentage?" 

"Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. 
I am a gentleman." I'll be sworn thou art. 
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and 

spirit, 
Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast! 
Soft, soft! 
325 Unless the master were the man. How now! 
Even so quickly may one catch the plague? 
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections 
With an invisible and subtle stealth 
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. 
330 What ho, Malvolio ! 

Re-enter Malvolio. 
Mat Here, madam, at your service. 

Oli. Eun after that same peevish messenger, 

The county's man. He left this ring behind 

him, 
Would I or not. Tell him I'll none of it. 
335 Desire him not to flatter with his lord, 

Nor hold him up with hopes. I'm not for 

him. 
If that the youth will come this way 

to-morrow, 
I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, 
Malvolio. 
Mai Madam, I will. [Exit. 

340 OIL I do I know not what, and fear to find 



70 



TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act I. Sc. v. 



Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. 
Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not 

owe. 
What is decreed must be, and be this so. 

[Exit. 



ACT SECOND. 
Scene I. 

The sea-coast. 
Enter Antonio and Sebastian. 

Ant. Will you stay no longer? Nor will yon not 
that I go with you? 

Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine 
darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate 
5 might perhaps distemper yours, therefore I 
shall crave of you your leave that I may bear 
my evils alone. It were a bad recompense 
for your love, to lay any of them on you. 

Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are 
10 bound. 

Seb. No, sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is 
mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you 
so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will 
not extort from me what I am willing to 
15 keep in ; therefore it charges me in manners 
the rather to express myself. You must 
know of me then, Antonio, my name is 
Sebastian, which I called Eoderigo. My 
father was that Sebastian of Messaline, 
2e whom I know vou have heard of. He left 



72 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. i. 

behind him myself and a sister, both born in 
an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 
would we had so ended! But you, sir, 
altered that; for some hour before. you took 
me from the breach of the sea was my sister 25 
drowned. 

Ant. Alas the day! 

Sei. A lady, sir, though it was said she much 
resembled me, was yet of many accounted 
beautiful; but, though I could not with 30 
such estimable wonder overfar believe that, 
yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she 
bore a mind that envy could not but call 
fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt 
water, though I seem to drown her remem- 85 
brance again with more. 

Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. 

Sei. good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. 

Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let 
me be your servant. 40 

Sei. If you will not undo what you have done, 
that is, kill him whom you have recovered, 
desire it not. Fare ye well at once. My 
bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so 
near the manners of my mother, that upon 45 
the least occasion more mine eyes will tell 
tales of me. I am bound to the Count 
Orsino's court. Farewell. [Exit. 

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! 
I have many enemies in Orsino's court, so 



Act II. Sc. ii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 73 

Else would I very shortly see thee there. 
But, come what may, I do adore thee so, 
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. 

[Emit. 

SCEKE II. 

A street. 
Enter Viola, Malvolio following . 

MaL Were you not even now with the Countess 
Olivia? 

Vio. Even now, sir. On a moderate pace I have 
since arrived but hither. 
hMah She returns this ring to you, sir. You 
might have saved me my pains, to have 
taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, 
that you should put your lord into a desper- 
ate assurance she will none of him, and — 
10 one thing more — that you be never so hardy 
to come again in his affairs, unless it be to 
report your lord's taking of this. * Receive 
it so. 

Vio. She took the ring of me. I'll none of it. 

15 Mai. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ; 

and her will is, it should be so returned. If 

it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your 

eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. 

Vio. I left no ring with her. What means this 
lady? 



74 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. ii. 

Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed so 

her! 
She made good view of me; indeed, so much, 
That sure methought her eyes had lost her 

tongue, 
For she did speak in starts distractedly. 
She loves me, sure. The cunning of her 

passion 
Invites me in this churlish messenger 25 

None of my lord's ring! Why, he sent her 

none. 
I am the man! If it be so, as 'tis, 
Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness 
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. 30 
How easy is it for the proper-false 
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! 
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we ! 
For such as we are made of, such we be. 
How will this f adge? My master loves her 35 

dearly ; 
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; 
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. 
What will become of this? As I am man, 
My state is desperate for my master's love, 
As I am a woman, — now alas the day ! — 40 
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia 

breathe ! 
O time ! thou must untangle this, not I. 
It is too hard a knot for me to untie! [Exit. 



Act II. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 75 

Scene III. 

A room in Olivia's house. 
Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew. 

Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be a-bed 
after midnight is to be up betimes; and 
"diluculo surgere," thou know'st, — 

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I 
5 know, to be up late is to be up late. 

Sir To. A false conclusion. I hate it as an 
unfilled can. To be up after midnight and 
to go to bed then, is early ; so that to go to 
bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. 
io Does not our life consist of the four 
elements? 

Sir And. Faith, so they say; but I think it 
rather consists of eating and drinking. 

Sir To. Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat 
15 and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup of wine! 
Enter Clown. 

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith. 

do. How now, my hearts! Did you never see 
the picture of "we three"? 

Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. 
20 Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent 
breast. I had rather than forty shillings I 
had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to 
sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in 
very gracious fooling last night, when thou 



76 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. iii. 

spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians25 
passing the equinoctial of Queubus. 'Twas 
very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for 
thy leman. Hadst it? 

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's 
nose is no whipstock. My lady has a white 30 
hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale 
houses. 

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool- 
ing, when all is done. Xow, a song. 

Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you. 35 
Let's have a song. 

Sir And. There's a testril of me too. If one 
knight give a — 

Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of 
good life? 40 

Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. 

Sir And. Ay, ay. I care not for good life. 

Clo. [Sings.] 

mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
0, stay and hear, your true love's coming, 

That can sing both high and low. 45 

Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; 
Journeys end in lovers meeting, 
Every wise man's son doth know. 

Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith. 

Sir To. Good, good. so 

Clo. [Sings.] 

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter. 
Present mirth hath present laughter ; 



Act II. Sc iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 77 

What's to come is still unsure. 
In delay there lies no plenty; 
55 Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, 

Youth's a stuff will not endure. 

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true 

knight. 
Sir To. A contagious breath. 
60 Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, 'i faith. 
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con- 
tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance 
indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a 
catch that will draw three souls out of one 
es weaver? Shall we do that? 
Sir And. An you love me, let's do't. I am dog 

at a catch. 
Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch 
well. 
70 Sir And. Most certain. Let our catch be, "Thou 
knave." 
Clo. "Hold thy peace, thou knave," knight? I 
shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, 
knight. 
75 Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have con- 
strained one to call me knave. Begin, fool. 
It begins, "Hold thy peace." 
Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. 
Sir And. Good, i' faith. Come, begin. 

[Catch sung. 
Enter Maria. 



78 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. So. iii. 

Mar. What a caterwauling do you keep here ! If so 
my lady have not called up her steward 
Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, 
never trust me. 

Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, 
Malvolio's a Peg-a-Kamsey, and "Three 85 
merry men be we." Am not I consan- 
guineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly- 
vally. Lady! [Sings. "\ "There dwelt a man 
in Babylon, lady, lady!" 

Glo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable 90 
fooling. 

Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be 
disposed, and so do I too. He does it with 
a better grace, but I do it more natural. 

Sir To. [Sings.] "0, the twelfth day of Decern- 95 
ber,"— 

Mar. For the love o' God, peace! 
Miter Malvolio. 

Mai. My masters, are you mad, or what are you? 
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but 
to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? 100 
Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, 
that ye squeak out your coziers' catches with- 
out any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is 
there no respect of place, persons, nor time 
in you? 105 

Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. 
Sneck up ! 

Mai. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My 



Act II. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 79 

lady bade me tell you that, though she 
no harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing 

allied to your disorders. If you can separate 

yourself and your misdemeanours, you are 

welcome to the house; if not, an it would 

please you to take leave of her, she is very 
us willing to bid you farewell. 

Sir To. "Farewell, dear heart, since I must seeds 

be gone." 
Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby. 

Clo. "His eyes do show his days are almost 
i2o done." 

Mai. Is't even so? 
Sir To. "But I will never die." 
Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. 
Mai. This is much credit to you. 
mSir To. "Shall I bid him go?" 
Clo. "What an if you do?" 
Sir To. "Shall I bid him go, and spare not?" 
Clo. "0 no, no, no, no, you dare not." 
Sir To. Out o' tune, sir; ye lie. Art any more 
130 than a steward? Dost thou think, because 

thou art virtuous, there shall be no more 

cakes and ale? 
Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot 

i' the mouth too. 
isd Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your 

chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria! 
Mai. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's 

favour at any thing more than contempt. 



80 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. iii. 

you would not give means for this uncivil 
rule. She shall know of it, by this hand. no 

[Exit. 

Mar. Go shake your ears. 

Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when 
a man's a-hungry, to challenge him the field, 
and then to break promise with him and 
make a fool of him. 145 

Sir To. Do't, knight. I'll write thee a chal- 
lenge, or I'll deliver thy indignation to him 
by word of mouth. 

Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night. 
Since the youth of the count's was to-day iso 
with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For 
Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him. 
If I do not gull him into a nayword, and 
make him a common recreation, do not think 
I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed. 155 
I know I can do it. 

Sir To. Possess us, possess us. Tell us some- 
thing of him. 

Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of 
puritan. 160 

Sir And. 0, if I thought that, I'd beat him like 
a dog! 

Sir To. What, for being a puritan? Thy exqui- 
site reason, dear knight? 

Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but 1 165 
have reason good enough. 

Mar. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing 



Act II. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 81 

constantly, but a time-pleaser ; an affectioned 
ass, that cons state without book and utters 
i7o it by great swarths; the best persuaded of 
himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with 
excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith 
that all that look on him love him ; and on 
that vice in him will my revenge find notable 
i« cause to work. 

Sir To. What wilt thou do? 

Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles 
of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, 
the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, 
iso the expressure of his eye, forehead, and com- 
plexion, he shall find himself most feelingly 
personated. I can write very like my lady 
your niece. On a forgotten matter we can 
hardly make distinction of our hands. 
185 Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device. 
Sir And. I have't in my nose too. 
Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou 
wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and 
that she's in love with him. 
190 Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that 

• colour. 
. Sir And. And your horse now would make him 
an ass. 
Mar. Ass, I doubt not. 
195 Sir And. 0,'t will be admirable! 

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you. I know my 
physic will work with him. I will plant you 



82 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. iv. 

two, and let the fool make a third, where he 
shall find the letter. Observe his construc- 
tion of it. For this night, to bed, and dream 200 
on the event. Farewell. [Exit. 

Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. 

Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. 

Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that 
adores me. What o' that? 305 

Sir And. I was adored once too. 

Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need 
send for more money. 

Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a 
foul way out. 210 

Sir To. Send for money, knight. If thou hast 
her not i' the end, call me cut. 

Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how 
you will. 

Sir To. Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis 215 
too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; 
come 5 knight. [Exeunt. 



Scene IV. 

A room in the Duke' s palace. 

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. 

Duke. Give me some music. Now, — good 
morrow, friends, — 
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of spng, 



Act II. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 83 

That old and antique song we heard last night. 
Methought it did relieve my passion much, 
5 More than light airs and recollected terms 
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. 
Come, but one verse. 
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that 
should sing it. 
10 Duke. Who was it? 
Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the 
lady Olivia's father took much delight in. 
He is about the house. 
Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the 
while. [Exit Curio. Music plays. 

15 Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love, 
In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; 
For such as I am all true lovers are, 
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. 
Save in the constant image of the creature 
20 That is beloved. How dost thou like this 
tune? 
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat 

Where Love is throned. 
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly. 

My life upon't, young though thou art, 

thine eye 
Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves. 
25 Hath it not, boy? 

Vio. A little, by your favour. 

Duke. What kind of woman is't? 

Vio. Of your complexion. 



84 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. iv. 

Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, 
i' faith? 

Vie About your years, my lord. 

Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman 
take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 30 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and 

worn, 
Than women's are. 

Vio. I think it well, my lord. 35 

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, 
Qr thy affection cannot hold the bent. 
For women are as roses, whose fair flower 
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour, 

Vio. And so they are; alas, that they are so! 40 
To die, even when they to perfection grow ! 
Re-enter Curio and Clown. 

Duke. 0, fellow, come, the song we had last night. 
Mark it Cesario, it is old and plain. 
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun 
And the free maids that weave their thread 45 

with bones 
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth, 
And dallies with the innocence of love, 
Like the old age. 

Clo. Are you ready, sir? 

Duke. Ay; prithee, sing. [Musics 



Act II. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. SB 

SONG. 

Clo. Come away, come away, death, 

And in sad cypress let me be laid. 
Ply away, fly away, breath ; 
I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
55 My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 

0, prepare it ! 
My part of death, no one so true 
Did share it 

Not a flower, not a flower sweet, 
60 On my black coffin let there be strown. 

Not a friend, not a friend greet 

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be 
thrown. 
A thousand thousand sighs to save, * 
Lay me, 0, where 
66 Sad true lover never finds my grave, 

To weep there! 

Duke. There's for thy pains. 
Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. 
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. 
to Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one 

time or another. 
Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and 

the tailor make thy doublet of changeable 
75 taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would 

have men of such constancy put to sea, that 



86 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. iv. 

their business might be every thing and their 
intent every where; for that's it that always 
makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. 

[Exit. 
Duke. Let all the rest give place. 

[Curio and Attendants retire. 
Once more, Cesario, so 
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty. 
Tell her, my love, more noble than the 

world, 
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands. 
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon 

her, 
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune ; 85 

But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems 
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul. 
Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir? 
Duke. I cannot be so answered. 
Vio. Sooth, but you must. 

Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, 90 

Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her. 
You tell her so. Must she not then be 
answered? 
Duke. There is no woman's sides 

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 95 
As love doth give my heart; no woman's 

heart 
So big, to hold so much. They lack reten- 
tion. 



Act II. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 87 

Alas, their love may be called appetite, 
No motion of the liver, but the palate, 
lo© That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt. 
But mine is all as hungry as the sea, 
And can digest as much. Make no compare 
Between that love a woman can bear me 
And that I owe Olivia. 
Vio. Ay, but I know — 

105 Duke. What dost thou know? 

Vio. Too well what love women to men may 
owe. 
In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
My father had a daughter loved a man, 
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
no I should your lordship. 

Duke. And what's her history? 

Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, 

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 

Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in 

thought, 
And with a green and yellow melancholy 
us She sat, like patience on a monument, 

Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? 
We men may say more, swear more; but 

indeed 
Our shows are more than will, for still we 

prove 
Much in our vows, but*little in our love. 
120 Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? 
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, 



88 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. v. 

And all the brothers too ; — and yet I know 

not. 
Sir, shall I to this lady? 
Duke. Ay, that's the theme. 

To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say, 
My love can give no pla<3e, bide no denay. 125 

[Exeunt. 

SCEXE V. 

Olivia's garden. 
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 

Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. 

Fab. Nay, I'll come. If I lose a scruple of this 
sport, let me be boiled to death with melan- 
choly. 

Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the 5 
niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some 
notable shame? 

Fab. I would exult, man. You know, he brought 
me out o' favour with my lady about a bear- 
baiting here. 10 

Sir To. To anger him we'll have the bear again, 
and we will fool him black and blue. Shall 
we not, Sir Andrew? 

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 

Sir To. Here comes the little villain. 15 

Enter Maria. 
How now, my metal of India! 



Act II. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 89 

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree; Malvo- 
lio's coming down this walk. He has been 
yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to his 
20 own shadow this half hour. Observe him, 
for the love of mockery, for I know this 
letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. 
Close, in the name of jesting ! Lie thou there 
[throws down a letter], for here comes the 
25 trout that must be caught with tickling. 

[Exit. 
Enter Malvolio. 
Mai. 'Tis but a fortune. All is fortune. Maria 
once told me she did affect me; and I have 
heard herself come thus near, that, should 
she fancy, it should be one of my eom- 
30 plexion. Besides, she uses me with a more 
exalted respect than any one else that follows 
her. What should I think on't? 
Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue! 
Fab. 0, peace! Contemplation makes a rare 
35 turkey-cock of him. How he jets under his 
advanced plumes ! 
Sir And. ? S light, I could so beat the rogue! 
Sir To. Peace, I say. 
Mai. To be Count Malvolio ! 
40 Sir To. Ah, rogue! 
Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. 
Sir To. Peace, peace! 

Mai. There is example for't. The lady of the 
Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 



\ 



90 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. v. 

Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! 45 

Fab. 0, peace! now he's deeply in. Look how 
imagination blows him. 

Mai. Having been three months married to her, 
sitting in my state, — 

Sir To. 0, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! »o 

Mai. Calling my officers about me, in my 
branched velvet gown, having come from a 
day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping, — 

Sir To. Fire and brimstone ! 

Fab. 0, peace, peace! 55 

Mai. And then to have the humour of state ; and 
after a demure travel of regard, telling them 
I know my place as I would they should do 
theirs, to ask for kinsman Toby, — 

Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! eo 

Fab. peace, peace, peace! Now, now. 

Mai. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, 
make out for him. I frown the while, and 
perchance wind up my watch, or play with 
my — some rich jewel. Toby approaches, 65 
courtesies there to me,— 

Sir To. Shall this fellow live? 

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with 
cars, yet peace. 

Mai. 1 extend my hand to him thus, quenching to 
my familiar smile with an austere regard of 
control, — 

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' 
the lips then? 



Act II. So. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 91 

75 Mai. Saying, "Cousin Toby, my fortunes having 
cast me on your niece give me this preroga- 
tive of speech," — 
Sir To. What, what? 

Mai. "You must amend your drunkenness." 
so Sir To. Out, scab! 
Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of 

our plot. 
Mai. "Besides, you waste the treasure of your 
time with a foolish knight," — 
8& Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. 
Mai. "One Sir Andrew,"— 
Sir And. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me 

fool. 
Mai. What employment have we here? 

[Taking up the letter. 
90 Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 
Sir To. 0, peace, and the spirit of humours inti- 
mate reading aloud to him ! 
Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hand. These 
be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and 
95 thus makes she her great P's. It is, in con- 
tempt of question, her hand. 
Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why 

that? 
Mai. [Reads. ] "To the unknown beloved, this, 
ioo and my good wishes": — her very phrases! 
By your leave, wax. Soft! And the impres- 
sure her Lucrece, with which she uses to 
seal. 'Tis my lady. To whom should this be? 



92 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. v. 

Fab. This wins him, liver and all. 

Mai. [Reads. 1 

Jove knows I love ; m 

But who? 
Lips, do not move ; 
No man must know. 
i i No man must know. ' ' What follows? The 
numbers altered! "No man must know!" no 
If this should be thee, Malvolio? 

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock! 

Mai. [Reads.] 

I may command where I adore ; 

But silence, like a Lucrece knife, 
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore. M 
M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life. 

Fab. A fustian riddle ! 

Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. 

Mai. "M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life." Nay, 
but first, let me see, let me see, let me see. 120 

Fab. What dish o 5 poison has she dressed him! 

Sir To. And with what wing the staniel checks 
at it! 

Mai. "I may command where I adore." Why, 
she may command me. I serve her. She is 125 = 
my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal 
capacity, there is no obstruction in this. 
And the end, — what should that alphabetical 
position portend? If I could make that 
resemble something in me, — Softly! M, 0, 130 
A, I- 



Act II. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 93 

Sir To. 0, ay, make up that. He is now at a 
cold scent. 

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though 
135 it be as rank as a fox. 

Mai. M, — Malvolio; M, — why, that begins my 
name. 

Fab. Did not I say he would work it out? The 
cur is excellent at faults. 
ho Mai. M, — but then there is no consonancy in the 
sequel. That suffers under probation. A 
should follow, but does. 

Fab. And shall end, I hope. 

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him 
1 145 cry ! 

Mai. And then I comes behind. 

Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you 

might see more detraction at your heels than 

fortunes before you. 

i5o Mai. M, 0, A, I; this simulation is not as the 

former. And yet, to crush this a little, it 

would bow to me, for every one of these 

letters are in my name. Soft ! here follows 

prose. [Reads.] "If this fall into thy hand, 

' i»5 revolve. In my stars I am above thee, but 

be not afraid of greatness. Some are born 

great, some achieve greatness, and some have 

greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open 

their hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace 

160 them; and, to inure thy self to what thou 

art like to be, cast thy humble slough and 



94 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. v. 

appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, 
surly with servants ; let thy tongue tang . 
arguments of state; put thyself into the 
trick of singularity: she thus advises theei65 
that sighs for thee. Eemember who com- 
mended thy yellow stockings, and wished to 
see thee ever cross-gartered. I say, remem- 
ber. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest 
to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward no 
still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy 
to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She 
that would alter services with thee, 

The Fortunate Unhappy." 

Daylight and champaign discovers not more. 175 
This is open. I will be proud, I will read 
politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I 
will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be 
point-devise the very man. I do not now 
fool myself, to let imagination jade me; foriso 
every reason excites to this, that my lady 
loves me. She did commend my yellow 
stockings of late, she did praise my leg being 
cross-gartered; and in this she manifests 
herself to my love, and with a kind ofiss 
injunction drives me to these habits of her 
liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I 
will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, 
and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness 
of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised ! 199 



Act II. Sc. v.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 95 

Here is yet a postscript. [Reads,] "Thou 
canst not choose but know who I am. If 
thou entertainest my love, let it appear in 
thy smiling. Thy smiles become thee well ; 
195 therefore in my presence still smile, dear my 
sweet, I prithee." 

Jove, I thank thee. I will smile; I will 
do everything that thou wilt have me. 

{Exit. 

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a 

200 pension of thousands to be paid from the 

Sophy. 

Sir To. I could marry this wench for this 

device — 
Sir And. So could I too. 
205 Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her but 
such another jest. 
Sir And. Nor I neither. 
Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 

Re-enter Maria. 
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? 
210 Sir And. Or o' mine either? 

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and 

become thy bond-slave? 
Sir And. V faith, or I either? 
Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a 
215 dream, that when the image of it leaves him 
he must run mad. 
Mar. Nay, but say true. Does it work upon 
him? 



96 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act II. Sc. v. 

Sir To, Like aqua-vita with a midwife. 

Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, 220 
mark his first approach before my lady. 
He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 
'tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, 
a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon 
her. which will now be so unsuitable to her 225 
disposition, being addicted to a melancholy 
as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a 
notable contempt. If you will see it, follow 
me. 

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel- 230 
lent devil of wit ! 

Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt. 



ACT THREE. 

Scene I. 

Olivia s garden. 

Enter Viola, and Clown, with a tabor. 

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music! Dost 

thou live by thy tabor? 
Glo. No, sir, I live by the church. 
Vio. Art thou a churchman? 
5 Clo. No such matter, sir. I do live by the 

church; for I do live at my house, and my 

house doth stand by the church. 
Vio. So thou mayst say, the king lies by a 

beggar, if a beggar dwells near him ; or, the 
10 church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor 

stand by the church. 
Clo. You have said, sir. To see this age! A 

sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit. 

How quickly the wrong side may be turned 
15 outward ! 

Vio. Nay, that's certain. They that dally nicely 

with words may quickly make them wanton. 
Clo. I would, therefore, my sister had had no 

name, sir. 
so Vio. Why, man? 

Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word, and to dally 

97 



08 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. i. 

with that word might make my sister wanton. 

But indeed words are very rascals since bonds 

disgraced them. 
Vio. Thy reason, man? 25 

Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without 

words; and words are grown so false, I am 

loath to prove reason with them. 
Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest 

for nothing. 30 

Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something ; but in 

my conscience, sir, I do not &are for you. 

If that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it 

would make you invisible. 
Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? 35 

Clo. No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no 

folly. She will keep no fool, sir, till she be 

married; and fools are as like husbands as 

pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the 

bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but hei*4o 

corrupter of words. 
Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's. 
Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the 

sun, it shines every where. I would be sorry, 

sir, but the fool should be as oft with your 45 

master as with my mistress. I think I saw 

your wisdom there. 
Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more 

with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. 
Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, 50 

send thee a beard! 



Act III. Sc. L] TWELFTH NIGHT. 99 

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick 
for one, — [Aside.] though I would not have 
it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within? 
55 Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? 
Vio. Yes, being kept together and put to use. 
Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, 

to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. 
Vio. I understand you, sir. 'Tis well begged. 
60 Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging 
but a beggar. Cressida was a beggar. My 
lady is within, sir. I will construe to them 
whence you come. Who you are and what 
you would are out of my welkin — I might say 
65 ''element," but the word is overworn. [Exit. 

Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, 
And to do that well craves a kind of wit. 
He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
The quality of persons, and the time, 
to And, like the haggard, check at every feather 
That comes before his eye. This is a' practice 
As full of labour as a wise man's art; 
For folly that he wisely shows is fit ; 
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their 
wit. 

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andreiu. 

75 Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 
Vio. And you, sir. 

Siv And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. 
Vio. Et vous aussi ; votre serviteur. 
LtrfC.J 



100 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. i. 

Sir And. I hope/sir, you are; and I am yours. 
Sir To. Will you encounter the house? My niece so 

is desirous you should enter, if your. trade be 

to her. 
Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she 

is the list of my voyage. 
Sir To. Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion. 85 
Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I 

understand what you mean by bidding me 

taste my legs. 
Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 
Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance. 90 

But we are prevented. 

Enter Olivia and Maria. 

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens 
rain odours on you ! 

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier. "Rain 
odours;" well. 95 

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your 
own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. 

Sir And. "Odours," "pregnant," and "vouch- 
safed" ; I'll get 'em all three all ready. 

Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me 100 
to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir 
Andrew, and Maria.'] Give me your hand, 
sir. 

Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. 

OIL What is your name? 105 

Vio. Oesario is your servant's name, fair princess. 



Act III. Sc. L] TWELFTH NIGHT. 101 

Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world 
Since lowly feigning was called compliment. 
You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth, 
no Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours. 
Your servant's servant is your servant, 
madam. 
Oli. For him, I think not on him. For his 
thoughts, 
Would they were blanks, rather than filled 
with me ! 
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
115 On his behalf. 

Oli. 0, by your leave, I pray you, 

I bade you never speak again of him ; 
But, would you undertake another suit, 
I had rather hear you to solicit that 
Than music from the spheres. 
120 Vio. Dear lady, — 

OIL Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, 
After the last enchantment you did here, 
A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse 
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you. 
125 Under your hard construction must I sit, 

To force that on you, in a shameful cun- 
ning, 
Which you knew none of yours. What might 

you think? 
Have you not set mine honour at the stake 
And baited it with all the unmuzzled 
thoughts 



X 



102 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. i. 

That tyrannous heart can think? To one of 130 
your receiving 

Enough is shown. A cypress, not a bosom, 

Hides my heart. So, let me hear you speak. 
Vio. I pity you. 

OIL That's a degree to love. 

Vio. No, not a grize ; for 'tis a vulgar proof , 

That very oft we pity enemies. 135 

OIL Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again. 

world, how apt the poor are to be proud! 
If one should be a prey, how much the better 
To fall before the lion than the wolf ! 

[Clock strikes. 
The clock upbraids me with the waste of 140 

time. 
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have 

you; 
And yet, when wit and youth is come to 

harvest. 
Your wife is like to reap a proper man. 
There lies your way, due west. 
Vio. Then westward-ho ! Grace and good dispo- 145 
sition 
Attend your ladyship ! 

You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? 
OIL Stay! 

1 prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me. 
Vio. That you do think you are not what you are. 150 
Oil. If I think so, I think the same of you. 

Vio. Then think you right. I am not what I am. 



Act IIL Sc. L] TWELFTH NIGHT. 103 

OH. I would you were as I would have you be ! 
Via. Would it be better, madam, than I am? 
155 I wish it might, for now I am your fool. 
OH. 0, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon 
Than love that would seem hid. Love's 
night is noon. 
i6o Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 

By maidhood, honour, truth, and everything, 
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, 
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. 
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
165 For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; 
But rather reason thus with reason fetter, 
Love sought is good, but given unsought is 
better. 
Via. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, 
170 And that no woman has ; nor never none 
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
And so adieu, good madam ; nevermore 
Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 
OH. Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst 
move 
175 That heart, which now abhors, to like his 
love. [Exeunt. 



104 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. ii. 

Scene II. 
A room in Olivia \s house. 

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 

Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. 

Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. 

Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir 
Andrew. 

Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours 5 
to the count's serving-man than ever she 
bestowed upon me. I saw't i' the orchard. 

Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old hoy? 
Tell me that. 

Sir And. As plain as I see you now. 10 

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her 
toward you. 

Sir And. 'S light, will you make an ass o' me? 

Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths 
of judgment and reason. 15 

Sir To. And they have been grand- jurymen since 
before Noah was a sailor. 

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your 
sight only to exasperate you, to awake your 
dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, 20 
and brimstone in your liver. You should 
then have accosted her ; and with some excel- 
lent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should 
have banged the youth into dumbness. This 



Act III. Sc. ii] TWELFTH NIGHT. 105 

25 was looked for at your hand, and this was 
balked. The double gilt of this opportunity 
you let time wash off, and you are now 
sailed into the north of my lady's opinion, 
where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutch- 

30 man's beard, unless you do redeem it by 

some laudable attempt either of valour or 

policy. 

Sir And. An't be any way, it must be with 

valour ; for policy I hate. I had as lief be a 

36 Brownist as a politician. 

Sir To. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon 

the basis of valour. Challenge me the 

count's youth to fight with him ; hurt him in 

eleven places; my niece shall take note of it; 

40 and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in 
the world can more prevail in man's com- 
mendation with woman than report of valour. 
Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. 
Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge 

45 to him? 

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial band. Be curst 

and brief. It is no matter how witty, so it 

be eloquent and full of invention. Taunt 

him with the license of ink. If thou thou'st 

50 him some thrice, it shall not be amiss ; and 
as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, 
although the sheet were big enough for the 
bed of Ware in England, set 'em down. Go 
about it. Let there be gall enough in thy 



x 



106 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. ii. 

ink. Though thou write with a goose-pen, 55 

no matter. About it. 
Sir And* Where shall I find you? 
Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go. 

[Exit Sir Andretv. 
Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. 
Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, some two6o 

thousand strong, or so. 
Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him. But 

you'll not deliver 't? 
Sir To. Never trust me, then; and by all means 

stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen 65 

and wainropes cannot hale them together. 

For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find 

so much blood in his liver as will clog the 

foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. 
Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his 70 

visage no great presage of cruelty. 

Enter Maria. 

Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine 
comes. 

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh 
yourselves into stitches, follow me. Yondra 
gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very rene- 
gado ; for there is no Christian, that means 
to be saved by believing rightly, can ever 
believe such impossible passages of grossness. 
He's in yellow stockings. so 

Sir To. And cross-gartered? 



Act III. Sc. iff.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 107 

Mar. Most villanously ; like a pedant that keeps 

a school i' the church. I have dogged him 

like his murderer. He does obey every point 

85 of the letter that I dropped to betray him. 

He does smile his face into more lines than 

is in the new map with the augmentation of 

the Indies. You have not seen such a thing 

as 't is. I can hardly forbear hurling things 

90 at him. I know my lady will strike him; if 

she do, he'll smile and take't for a great 

favour, 

Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. 

[Exeunt 

Scene III. 

A street. 

Enter Sebastian and Antonio. 

Seb. I would not by my will have troubled you; 
But, since you make your pleasure of your 

pains, 
I will no further chide you. 
Ant. I could not stay behind you. My desire, 
5 More sharp than filed steel, did spur me 

forth, 
And not all love to see you, though so much 
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, 
But jealousy what might befall your travel, 
Being skilless in these parts; which to a 
stranger, 



108 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. iii. 

TJnguided and unfriended, often prove ig 

Bough and unhospitable. My willing love, 
The rather by these arguments of fear, 
Set forth in your pursuit. 

Seb. My kind Antonio, 

I can no other answer make but thanks, 
And thanks, and ever [thanks. Too] oft is 

good turns 
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay ; 
But, were my worth as is my conscience firm, 
You should find better dealing. "What's 

to do? 
Shall we go see the reliques of this town? 

Ant. To-morrow, sir. Best first go see your 20 
lodging. 

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night. 
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes 
With the memorials and the things of fame 
That do renown this city. 

Ant. Would you'd pardon me. 

I do not without danger walk these streets. 25 
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his 

galleys 
I did some service; of such note indeed, 
That were I ta'en here it would scarce be 
answered. 

Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people? 

Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature, so 
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel 
Might well have given us bloody argument. 



Act HI. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 109 

It might have since been answered in repaying 
What we took from them, which, for traffic's 
sake, 
85 Most of our city did ; only myself stood out, 
For which, if I be lapsed in this place, 
I shall pay dear. 
Seb. Do not then walk too open. 

Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my 
purse. 
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, 
40 Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet, 

Whiles you beguile the time and feed your 

knowledge 
With viewing of the town. There shall you 
have me. 
Seb. Why I your purse? 

Ant. Haply your eye shall light upon some toy 
45 You have desire to purchase, and your store, 
I think, is not for idle markets, sir. 
Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you 

For an hour. 
Ant. To the Elephant. 

Seb. I do remember. 

[Exeunt. 



110 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. iv. 



Scexe IV. 

Olivia's garden. 

Enter Olivia and Maria. 

OIL [Aside.'] I have sent after him; he says 
he'll come; 

How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? 

For youth is bought more oft than begged or 
borrowed. 

I speak too loud. 

Where is Malvolio? He is sad and civil, 5 

And suits well for a servant with my 
fortunes. 

Where is Malvolio? 
Mar. He's coming, madam, but in very strange 

manner. He is, sure, possessed, madam. 
Oli. Why, what's the matter? Does he rave? 10 
Mar. No, madam, he does nothing but smile. 

Your ladyship were best to have some guard 

about you, if he come ; for, sure, the man is 

tainted in 's wits. 
Oli. Go call him hither. [Exit Maria.] I amis 
as mad as he, 

If sad and merry madness equal be. 

Re-enter Maria, with Malvolio. 

How now, Malvolio ! 
Mai. Sweet lady, ho, ho. 



ACT III. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. Ill 

Oli. Smilest thou? 
20 I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. 

Mai. Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does 
make some obstruction in the blood, this 
cross-gartering; but what of that? If it 
please the eye of one, it is with me as the 
25 very true sonnet is, "Please one, and please 
all." 

Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the 
matter with thee? 

Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow in 
30 my legs. It did come to his hands, and 
commands shall be executed. I think we do 
know the sweet Eoman hand. 

OIL Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? 

Mai. To bed! Ay, sweet heart. . . . 
&5 Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so 
and kiss thy hand so oft? 

Mar. How do you, Malvolio? 

Mat At your request ! Yes. Nightingales answer 
daws. 
40 Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold- 
ness before my lady? 

Mai. "Be not afraid of greatness:" 'twas well 
writ. 

OIL What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? 
4&Mal. "Some are born great," — 

Oli. Ha! 

Mai. "Some achieve greatness," — 

Oli. What say est thou? 



112 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act m. Sc. iv. 

Mai. "And some have greatness thrust upon 
them." 50 

Oli. Heaven restore thee ! 

Mai. "Kemember who commended thy yellow 
stockings," — 

Oli. Thy yellow stockings ! 

Mai. "And wished to see thee cross-gartered. " 55 

Oli. Cross-gartered! 

Mai. "Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to 
be bo;" — 

Oli. Am I made? 

Mai. "If not, let me see thee a servant still." 60 

Oli. Why, this is very midsummer madness. 

Enter Servant. 

Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count 
Orgino's is returned. I could hardly entreat 
him back. He attends your ladyship's 
pleasure. 65 

Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good 
Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's 
my cousin Toby? Let some of my people 
have a special care of him. I would not have 
him miscarry for the half of my dowry. 70 

[Exeunt Olivia and Maria. 

Mai. 0, ho! do you come near me now? Ko 
worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! 
This concurs directly with the letter. She 
sends him on purpose, that I may appear 
stubborn to him, for she incites me to that 75 



Act III. Sc. iv] TWELFTH NIGHT. 113 

in the letter. "Cast thy humble slough," 
says she; "be opposite with a kinsman, surly 
with servants; let thy tongue tang with 
arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick 

80 of singularity;" and consequently sets down 
the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend 
carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some 
sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her; 
but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me 

85 thankful! And when she went away now, 
"Let this fellow be looked to"; "fellow!" 
not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but 
"fellow." Why, every thing adheres to- 
gether, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple 

90 of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or 
unsafe circumstance — "What can be said? 
Nothing that can be can come between me 
and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, 
Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to 

95 be thanked. 

Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby and Fabian. 

Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? 

If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and 

Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak 

to him. 
ioo Fab. Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, 

sir? How is't with you, man? 
Mai. Go off ; I discard you. Let me enjoy my 

private. Go off. 



114 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. iv. 

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within 
him! Did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my 105 
lady prays you to have a care of him. 

Mai. Ah, ha! Does she so? 

Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace. We must 
deal gently with him. Let me alone. How 
do you, Malvolio? How is't with you? no 
What, man, defy the devil! Consider, he's 
an enemy to mankind. 

Mai. Do you know what you say? 

Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how 
he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not 115 
bewitched ! 

Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. 

Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow 
morning if I live. My lady would not lose 
him for more than I'll say. 120 

Mai. How now, mistress ! 

Mar. Lord! 

Sir To. Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the 
way. Do you not see you move him? Let 
me alone with him. 125 

Fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gently. The 
fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. 

Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock ! How dost 
thou, chuck? 

Mai Sir! 130 

Sir To. Ay, " Biddy, come with me." What, 
man, 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit 
with Satan. Hang him, foul collier! 



Act III. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 115 

Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, 
135 get him to pray. 

Mai. My prayers, minx! 

Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of 
godliness. 

Mai. Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle 

140 shallow things; I am not of your element. 

You shall know more hereafter. [Exit. 

Sir To. Is't possible? 

Fat. If this were played upon a stage now, I 
could condemn it as an improbable fiction. 
145 Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection 
of the device, man. 

Mar. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take 
air and taint. 

Fab. Why, we shall make him mad indeed. 
150 Mar. The house will be the quieter. 

Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room 
and bound. My niece is already in the belief 
that he's mad. We may carry it thus, for 
our pleasure and his penance, till our very 
155 pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to 
have mercy on him ; at which time we will 
bring the device to the bar and crown thee 
for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. 

Enter Sir Andrew. 

Fab. More matter for a May morning. 
160 Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it. I war- 
rant there's vinegar and pepper in't. 



116 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. So. iv. 

Fab. Is't so saucy? 

Sir And. Ay, is't, I warrant him. Do but read. 

Sir To. Give me. [Reads.] "Youth, whatsover 
thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow." 165 

Fab. Good, and valiant. 

Sir To. [Reads.] "Wonder not, nor admire not 
in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will 
show thee no reason for't." 

Fab. A good note. That keeps you from them 
blow of the law. 

Sir To. [Reads.] "Thou comest to the lady 
Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly. 
But thou liest in thy throat; that is not 
the matter I challenge thee for." 175 

Fab. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense — 
less. 

Sir To. [Reads.] "I will waylay thee going- 
home; where if it be thy chance to kill 
me," — 180 

Fab. Good. 

Sir To. [Reads.] "Thou killest me like a rogue 
and a villain. ' ' 

Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law; 

gOOd. 185 

Sir To. [Reads.] "Fare thee well, and God have 
mercy upon one of our souls ! He may have 
mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, 
and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou 
usest him, and thy sworn enemy, 190 

Andrew Aguecheek." 



Act III. Sc. iv] TWELFTH NIGHT. 117 

If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. 
I'll give't him. 
Mar. You may have very fit occasion for't. He 

195 is now in some commerce with my lady, and 

will by and by depart. 

Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew, scout me for him at 

the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily. 

So soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, 

200 as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes 
to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swag- 
gering accent sharply twanged off, gives man- 
hood more approbation than ever proof itself 
would have earned him. Away ! 

205 Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit. 

Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter ; for the 

behaviour of the young gentleman gives him 

out to be of good capacity and breeding ; his 

employment between his lord and my niece 

210 confirms no less; therefore this letter, being 
so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror 
in the youth; he will find it comes from a 
clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his chal- 
lenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek 

215 a notable report of valour, and drive the 
gentleman, as I know his youth will aptly 
receive it, into a most hideous opinion of 
his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This 
will so fright them both that they will 

220 kill one another by the look, like cocka- 
trices. 



118 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. iv. 

Re-enter Olivia with Viola. 
Fab. Here he comes with your niece. Give them 
way till he take leave, and presently after 
him. 
Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some 
horrid message for a challenge. 225 

[Fxeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria. 
Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, 
And laid mine honour too unchary on't. 
There's some thing in me that reproves my 

fault ; 
But such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
That it but mocks reproof. 230 

Via. With the same 'haviour that your passion 
bears 
Goes on my master's grief. 
Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture. 
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you; 
And I beseech you come again to-morrow. 235 
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, 
That honour saved may upon asking give? 
Vio. Nothing but this, — your true love for my 

master. 
OH. How with mine honour may I give him that 

Which I have given to you? 
Vio. I will acquit you. 240 

Oli. Well, come again to-morrow. Fare thee 
well! 
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. 

[Exit. 



Act III. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 119 

Re-enter Sir Toby and Fabian. 
Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee! 
Vio. And you, sir. 
245 Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee 
to't. Of what nature the wrongs are thou 
hast done him, I know not ; but thy inter- 
cepted full of despite, bloody as the hunter, 
attends thee at the orchard-end. Dismount 
2*0 thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy 
assailant is quick, skilful and deadly, 
Vio. You mistake, sir. I am sure no man hath 
any quarrel to me. My remembrance is very 
free and clear from any image of offence done 
255 to any man. 

Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you; 

therefore, if you hold your life at any price, 

betake you to your guard ; for your opposite 

hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and 

-zoo wrath can furnish man withal. 

Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he?' 

Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhatched 

rapier and on carpet consideration; but he is 

a devil in private brawl. Souls and bodies hath 

365 he divorced three ; and his incensement at this 

moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can 

be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. 

Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't. 

Vio. I will return again into the house and desire 

270 some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. 

I have heard of some kind of men that put 



120 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. iv. 

quarrels purposely on others, to taste their 
valour. Belike this is a man of that quirk. 

Sir To. Sir, no ; his indignation derives itself out 
of a very competent injury; therefore, getsrs 
you on and give him his desire. Back you 
shall not to the house, unless you undertake 
that with me which with as much safety you 
might answer him; therefore, on, or strip 
your sword stark naked; for meddle you28o 
must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron 
about you. 

Vio. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, 
do me this courteous office, as to know of the 
knight what my offence to him is. It is 285 
something of my negligence, nothing of my 
purpose. 

Sir To. I will do so. Signor Fabian, stay you by 
this gentleman till my return. [Exit. 

Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? 290 

Fab. I know the knight is incensed against you, 
even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of 
the circumstance more. 

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? 

Fa b. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read 295 
him by his form, as you are like to find him 
in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, 
sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal oppo- 
site that you could possibly have found in any 
part of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? 300 
I will make your peace with him if I can. 



Act III. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 121 

Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't. I am 

one that had rather go with sir priest than 

sir knight. I care not who knows so much 

305 of my mettle. [Exeunt. 

Re-enter Sir Toby, with Sir Andrew. 
Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not 
seen such a firago. I had a pass with him, 
rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the 
stuck in with such a mortal motion, that it is 
310 inevitable ; and on the answer, he pays you 
as surely as your feet hit the ground they 
step on. They say he has been fencer to the 
Sophy. 
Sir And. Plague on't, I'll not meddle with him. 
3i5 Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified. 
Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. 
Sir And. Plague on't, an I thought he had been 
valiant and so cunning in fence, I'd have 
seen him damned ere I'd have challenged 
320 him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll 
give him my horse, grey Capilet. 
Sir To. I'll make the motion. Stand here; make 
a good show on't. This shall end without 
the perdition of souls. [Aside.] Marry, I'll 
325 ride your horse as well as I ride you. 

Re-enter Fabian and Viola. 
[To Fab.] I have his horse to take up the 
quarrel. I have persuaded him the youth's a 
devil. 



122 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act III. Sc. iv. 

Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; and 
pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his 330 
heels. 

Sir To. [To Vio.] There's no remedy, sir; he 
will fight with you for 's oath sake. Marry, 
he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, 
and he finds that now scarce to be worth 335 
talking of; therefore draw, for the support- 
ance of his vow. He protests he will not 
hurt you. 

Vio. [Aside.] Pray God defend me! A little 
thing would make me tell them how much 1 340 
lack of a man. 

Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. 

Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; 
the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, 
have one bout with you. He cannot by the 345 
duello avoid it ; but he has promised me, as 
he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not 
hurt you. Come on; to't. 

Svr And. Pray God, he keep his oath! 

Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against my will . 350 

[They draiv. 

Enter Antonio. 

Ant. Put up your sword. If this young gentle- 
man 

Have done offence, I take the fault on me ; 

If you offend him, I for him defy you. 
Sir To. You, sir! Why, what are you? 



Act III. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 123 

355 Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more 

Than you have heard him brag to yon he 

will. 

Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for 

you. \Th e V draiv. 

Enter Officers. 

Fab. good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the 
officers. 
360 Sir To. I'll be with you anon. 

Vio. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. 
Sir And. Marry, will I, sir;* and, for that I 
promised you, I'll be as good as my word. 
He will bear you easily and reins well. 
365 First Off. This is the man; do thy office. 

Sec. Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of 

Count Orsino. 
Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 
First Off. No, sir, no jot. I know your favour 
well, 
370 Though now you have no sea-cap on your 
head. 
Take him away; he knows I know him well. 
Ant. I must obey. [To Vio.] This comes with 
seeking you. 
But there's no remedy ; I shall answer it. 
What will you do, now my necessity 
375 Makes me to ask you for my purse? It 
grieves me 
Much more for what I cannot do for you 



124 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act IH. Sc. iv. 

Than what befalls myself. You stand 
amazed, 

But be of comfort. 
Sec. Off. Come, sir, away. 

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. 380 
Vio. What money, sir? 

For the fair kindness you have showed me 
here, 

And, part, being prompted by your present 
trouble, 

Out of my lean and low ability 

I'll lend you something. My having is not 385 
much. 

I'll make division of my present with you. 

Hold, there's half my coffer. 
Ant. Will you deny me now? 

Is't possible that my deserts to you 

Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my 
misery, 

Lest that it make me so unsound a man 390 

As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 

That I have done for you. 
Vio. I know of none, 

Nor know I you by voice or any feature. 

I hate ingratitude more in a man 

Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 395 

Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption 

Inhabits our frail blood. 
Ant. heavens themselves! 

Sec. Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go. 



Act III. Sc. iv.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 125 

Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you 
see here 
400 I snatched one half out of the jaws of death, 
Relieved him with such sanctity of love, 
And to his image, which methought did 

promise 
Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 
First Off. What's that to us? The time goes by; 
away! 
4&Ant. But how vile an idol proves this god! 

Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature 

shame. 

In nature there's no blemish but the mind; 

None can be called deformed but the unkind. 

Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil 

4io Are empty trunks o'erflourished by the devil. 

First Off. The man grows mad; away with him! 

Come, come, sir. 
Ant. Lead me on. [Exit toith Officers. 

Vio. Methinks his words do from such passion fly, 
415 That he believes himself ; so do not I. 
Prove true, imagination, 0, prove true, 
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you ! 
Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, 
Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of 
430 most sage saws. 

Vio. He named Sebastian. I my brother know 
Yet living in my glass ; even such and so 
In favour was my brother, and he went 
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, 



126 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act in. Sc. iv. 

For him I imitate. 0, if it prove, 425 

Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in 
love. [Exit. 

Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a 
coward than a hare. His dishonesty appears 
in leaving his friend here in necessity and 
denying him; and, for his cowardship, ask 430 
Fabian. 

Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious 
in it. 

Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him. 

Sir To. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw 435 
thy sword. 

Sir And. An I do not, — [Exit. 

Fab. Come, let's see the event. 

Sir To. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing 
yet. [Exeunt. 440 



ACT FOURTH. 

SCEXE I. 

Before Olivia's house. 
Enter Sebastian and Clown. 

Olo. Will you make me believe that I am not sent 

for you? 
Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; let 
me be clear of thee. 

5 Clo. Well held out, V faith! No, I do not know 
you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, 
to bid you come speak with her; nor your 
name is not Master Cesario ; nor this is not 
my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. 

10 Seb. I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else. 
Thou know'st not me. 
Olo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of 
some great man and now applies it to a fool. 
Vent my folly ! I am afraid this great lub- 

15 ber, the world, will prove a cockney. I 
prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell 
me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall I 
vent to her that thou art coming? 
Seb. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me. 

20 There's money for thee. If you tarry longer, 
I shall give worse payment. 

127 



128 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act IV. Sc. i. 

Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. 
These wise men that give fools money get 
themselves a good report — after fourteen 
years' purchase. 25 

Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian. 

Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? 

There's for you. 
Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. 

Are all the people mad? 
Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er 30 

the house. 
Clo. This will I tell my lady straight. I would 

not be in some of your coats for two pence. 

[Exit. 
Sir To. Come on, sir. Hold ! 
Sir And. Nay, let him alone. I'll go another 35 

way to work with him. I'll have an action 

of battery against him, if there be any law in 

Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet it's 

no matter for that. 
Seb. Let go thy hand. 40 

Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, 

my young soldier, put up your iron; you are 

well fleshed. Come on. 
Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst 
thou now? 

If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy 45 
sword. 
Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an 



Act IV. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 129 

ounce or two of this malapert blood from 
you. 

Enter Olivia. 

OIL Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee, 
hold! 
50 Sir To. Madam — 
Oli. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, 
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous 

caves, 
Where manners ne'er were preached! Out 

of my sight ! 
Be not offended, dear Cesario. 
55 Rudesby, be gone ! 

[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
I prithee, gentle friend, 
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway 
In this uncivil and unjust extent 
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, 
And hear thou there how many fruitless 
pranks 
eo This ruffian hath botched up, that thou 

thereby 
Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose 

but go. 
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, 
He started one poor heart of mine in thee. 
Seb. What relish is in this? How runs the 
stream? 
65 Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. 

\\ 



130 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act IV. Sc. ii. 

Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep. 
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep ! 
OIL Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou'dst be 

ruled by me ! 
Seb. Madam, I will. 
014. 0, say so, and so be! 

[Exeunt. 

Scene II. 

Olivia's house. 
Enter Maria and Clown. 

Mar. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this 
beard. Make him believe thou art Sir Topas 
the curate. Do it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby 
the whilst. [Exit. 

Ch Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissembles 
myself in't; and I would I were the first that 
ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not 
tall enough to become the function well, nor 
lean enough to be thought a good student; 
but to be said an honest man and a good to 
housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful 
man and a great scholar. The competitors 
enter. 

Enter Sir Toby and Maria. 

Sir To. Jove bless thee, master Parson. 
Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby : for, as the old hermit 15 
of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very 



Act IV. Sc. ii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 131 

wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 
"That that is is"; so I, being master Parson, 
am master Parson; for, what is "that" but 
20 "that," and "is" but "is"? 

Sir To. To him, Sir Topas. 
Clo. What, ho, I say ! Peace in this prison ! 
Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good 
knave. 
25 Mai. [Within.] Who calls there? 
Clo. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit 

Malvolio the lunatic. 
Mai. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to 
my lady. 
so Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! How vexest thou 
this man! Talkest thou nothing but of 
ladies? 
Sir To. Well said, master Parson. 
Mai. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. 
35 Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad. 
They have laid me here in hideous darkness. 
Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by 
the most modest terms, for I am one of those 
gentle ones that will use the devil himself 
40 with courtesy. Sayest thou that house is 
dark? 
Mai. As hell, Sir Topas. 

Clo. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as 
barricadoes, and the clerestories toward the 
45 south north are as lustrous as ebony; and 
yet complainest thou of obstruction? 



\ 



132 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act IV. Sc. ii. 

Mai. I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you, 
this house is dark. 

Clo. Madman, thou errest. I say, there is no 
darkness but ignorance, in which thou art so 
more puzzled than the Egyptians in their 
fog. 

Mai. I say, this house is dark as ignorance, 
though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I 
say, there was never man thus abused. I am 55 
no more mad than you are. Make the trial 
of it in any constant question. 

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concern- 
ing wild fowl? 

Mai. That the soul of our grandam might haply 60 
inhabit a bird. 

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? 

Mai. I think nobly of the soul, and no way 
approve his opinion. 

Clo. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in dark- 65 
ness. Thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythag- 
oras ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to 
kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul 
of thy grandam. Fare thee well. 

Mai. Sir Topas, Sir Topas! 70 

Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas! 

Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. 

Mar. Thou mightst have done this without thy 
beard and gown. He sees thee not. 

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me 75 
word how thou findest him. I would we 



Act IV. Sc. ii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 133 

were well rid of this knavery. If he may be 
conveniently delivered, I would he were, for 
I am now so far in offence with my niece 
80 that I cannot pursue with any safety this 
sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my 
chamber. [Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria. 

Clo. [Singing.] "Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, 

Tell me how thy lady does." 
*MaL Fool! 
Clo. "My lady is unkind, perdy. " 
Mai Fool! 

Clo. "Alas, why is she so?" 
Mai. Fool, I say ! 
90 Clo. "She loves another" — Who calls, ha? 
Mai. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well 
at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, 
ink, and paper. As I am a gentleman, I will 
live to be thankful to thee for 't. 
95 Clo. Master Malvolio? 
Mai. Ay, good fool. 
Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five 

wits? 
Mai. Fool, there was never man so notoriously 
ioo abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as 
thou art. 
Clo. But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if 

you be no better in your wits than a fool. 
Mai. They have here propertied me, keep me in 
ioo darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do 
all they can to face me out of my wits. 



134 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act. IV. Sc. ii. 

Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister is 
here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the 
heavens restore! Endeavour thyself to sleep, 
and leave thy vain bibble babble. no 

MaL SirTopas! 

Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. 
Who, I, sir? Not I, sir. God buy you, 
good Sir Topas. Marry, amen. I will, sir, 

I Will. 115 

MaL Fool, fool, fool, I say! 

Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I 
am shent for speaking to you. 

MaL Good fool, help me to some light and some 
paper. I tell thee, I am as well in my wits 120 
as any man in Illyria. 

Clo. Well-a-day that you were, sir! 

MaL By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, 
paper, and light; and convey what I will 
set down to my lady. It shall advantage 125 
thee more than ever the bearing of letter 
did. 

Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are 
you not mad, indeed, or do you but counter- 
feit? 130 

MaL Believe me, I am not. I tell thee true. 

Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see 
his brains. I will fetch you light and paper 
and ink. 

Mai. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree. i«5 
I prithee, be gone. 



Act IV. Sc. iii] TWELFTH NIGHT. 135 

Oh. [Singing.] I am gone, sir, 
And anon, sir, 
I'll be with you again, 
ho In a trice, 

Like to the old Vice, 
Your need to sustain; 

Who, with dagger of lath, 
In his rage and his wrath, 
H5 Cries, ah, ha! to the devil, 

Like a mad lad. 
Pare thy nails, dad. 

Adieu, good man deril. [Exit. 



Sce^te III. 

Olivia's garden. 

Enter Sebastian. 

Seb. This is the air, that is the glorious sun, 
'This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't; 
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, 
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? 
I could not find him at the Elephant; 
Yet there he was, and there I found this 

credit, 
That he did range the town to seek me out. 
His counsel now might do me golden service; 
For though my soul disputes well with my 

sense, 



136 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act IV. Sc. iii. 

That this may be some error, but no madness, 10 
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune 
So far exceed all instance, all discourse, 
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes 
And wrangle with my reason that persuades 

me 
To any other trust but that I am mad is 

Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, 
She could not sway her house, command her 

followers, 
Take and give back affairs and their dispatch 
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable 

bearing 
As I perceive she does. There's something 20 

in't 
That is deceivable. But here the lady 

comes. 

Enter Olivia and Priest. 

Oli. Blame not this haste of mine. If you njean 
well, 
Now go with me and with this holy man 
Into the chantry by; there, before him, 
And underneath that consecrated roof, 25 

Plight me the full assurance of your faith, 
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
May live at peace. He shall conceal it 
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, 
What time we will our celebration keep 30 

According to my birth. What do you say? 



Act IV. Sc. iii.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 137 

Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; 

And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 

OU. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens 

so shine. 

35 That they may fairly note this act of mine ! 

[Exeunt. 



ACT FIFTH. 

Scene I. 
Before Olivia's house. 

Enter Clown and Fabian. 

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his 

letter. 
Clo. Good Master Fabian, grant me another 

request. 
Fab. Any thing. s 

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. 
Fab. This is to give a dog and in recompense 

desire my dog again. 

Miter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords. 

Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? 
Clo. Ay ? sir, we are some of her trappings. 10 

Duke. I know thee well ; how dost thou, my good 

fellow? 
Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the 

worse for my friends. 
Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy 15 

friends. 
Clo. No, sir, the worse. 
Duke. How can that be? 

138 



Act V. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 139 

Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass 
20 of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an 
ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the 
knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am 
abused; so that, conclusions to be as kisses, 
if your four negatives make your two affirm- 
25 atives, why then, the worse for my friends 
and the better for my foes. 
Duke. Why, this is excellent. 
Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you 
to be one of my friends. 
30 Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me. 
There's gold. 
Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I 

would you could make it another. 
Duke. 0, you give me ill counsel. 
35 Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this 
once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. 
Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a 

double-dealer. There's another. 
Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and 
40 the old saying is, the third pays for all. The 
triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or 
the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you 
in mind; one, two, three. 
Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at 
45 this throw. If you will let your lady know I 
am here to speak with her, and bring her 
along with you, it may awake my bounty 
further. 



140 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come 
again. I go, sir, but I would not have you 
to think that my desire of having is the sin 
of eovetousness; but, as you say, sir, let 
your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. 

{Exit. 
Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue 
me. 

Enter Antonio and Officers. 

Duke. That face of his I do remember well, 55 

Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmeared 
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. 
A bawbling vessel was he captain of, 
For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, 
With which such scathful grapple did heeo 

make 
With the most noble bottom of our fleet, 
That very envy and the tongue of loss 
Cried fame and honour on him. What's the 

matter? 
First Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio 

That took the Phoenix and her fraught from 65 

Candy, 
And this is he that did the Tiger board, 
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. 
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and 

state, 
In private brabble did we apprehend him. 
Vio. He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side, ?o 



ActV. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 141 

But in conclusion put strange speech upon 

me. 
I know not what 'twas but distraction. 
Duke. Notable pirate ! Thou salt-water thief ! 
What foolish boldness brought thee to their 

mercies 
75 Whom thou, in terms so blood} 7 and so dear, 

Hast made thine enemies? 
Ant. Orsino, noble sir, 

Be pleased that I shake off these names you 

give me. 
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, 
Though I confess, on base and ground 

enough, 
so Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me 

hither. 
That most ingrateful boy there by your side, 
From the rude sea's enraged and foamy 

mouth 
Did I redeem. A wreck past hope he was. 
His life I gave him. and did thereto add 
85 My love, without retention or restraint, 
xlll his in dedication. For his sake 
Did I expose myself, pure for his love, 
Into the danger of this adverse town ; 
Drew to defend him when he was beset ; 
90 Where being apprehended, his false cunning, 
Xot meaning to partake with me in danger, 
Taught him to face me out of his acquaint- 
ance, 



142 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

And grew a twenty years removed tiling 
While one would wink ; denied me mine own 

purse, 
Which I had recommended to his use 95 

Not half an hour before. 

Vio. How can this be? 

Duke. When came he to this town? 

Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months 
before, 
No interim, not a minute's vacancy, 
Both day and night did we keep company. 100 

Enter Olivia and Attendants. 

Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven 
walks on earth. 
But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are 

madness. 
Three months this youth hath tended upon 

me; 
But more of that anon. Take him aside. 
01%. What would my lord, but that he may not 105 
have, 
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? 
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 
Vio. Madam! 
Duke. Gracious Olivia, — 

OK What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord, — no 
Vio. My lord would speak ; my duty hushes me. 
Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear 



Act V. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 143 

As howling after music. 
Duke. Still so cruel ! 

H5 Oli. Still so constant, lord. 

Duke. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, 
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars 
My soul the faithfull'st offerings have 

breathed out 
That e'er devotion tendered ! What shall I 
do? 
120 OK. Even what it please my lord, that shall 
become him. 
Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, 
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, 
Kill what I love? — a savage jealousy 
That sometime savours nobly. But hear me 
this: 
125 Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, 

And that I partly know the instrument 
That screws me from my true place ia your 

favour, 
Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still ; 
But this your minion, whom I know yon love, 
130 And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender 
dearly, 
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, 
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. 
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe 

in mischief. 
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, 
185 To spite a raven's heart within a dove. 



144 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, 

To do you rest, a thousand deaths, would die. 
OIL Where goes Cesario? 
Vio. After him I love 

More than I love these eyes, more than my 
life, 

More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife, ho 

If I do feign, you witnesses above 

Punish my life for tainting of my love ! 
Oli. Ay me, detested ! How am I beguiled ! 
Vio. Who does beguile you? Who does do you 

wrong? 
Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? 145 

Call forth the holy father. 
Duke. Come, away! 

Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. 
Duke. Husband! 

OIL Ay, husband! Can he that deny? 

Duke. Her husband, sirrah ! 
Vio. No, my lord, not I. 

OIL Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear 150 

That makes thee strangle thy propriety. 

Fear not, Cesario ; take thy fortunes up. 

Be that thou know'st thou art, and then 

thou art 

As great as that thou fear'st. 
§ 

Enter Priest. 

0, welcome, father! 
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, 155 



ActV.Sc. L] TWELFTH NIGHT. 145 

Here to unfold, though lately we intended 
To keep in darkness what occasion now 
Reveals before 'tis ripe, what thou dost know 
Hath newly passed between this youth and me. 
160 Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 

Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, 
Attested by the holy close of lips, 
Strengthened by interchangement of your 

rings; 
And all the ceremony of this compact 
165 Sealed in my function, by my testimony ; 

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward 

my grave 
I have travelled but two hours. 
Duke. thou dissembling cub ! What wilt thou 
be 
When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? 
170 Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, 

That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? 
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet 
Where thou and I henceforth may never 
meet. 
Vio. My lord, I do protest — 
Oli. 0, do not swear! 

its Hold little faith, though thou hast too much 
fear. 

Enter Sir Andrew. 

Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon! 
Send one presently to Sir Toby. 



146 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

OIL What's the matter? 

Sir And. He has broke my head across and has 

given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For iso 

the love of God, your help! I had rather 

than forty pound I were at home. 
01%. Who has done this, Sir Andrew? 
Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario. 

We took him for a coward, but he's the very 185 

devil incardinate. 
Duke. My gentleman, Cesario? 
Sir And. 'Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke 

my head for nothing; and that that I did, I 

was set on to do't by Sir Toby. 190 

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you. 

You drew your sword upon me without cause; 

But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. 
Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you 

have hurt me. I think you set nothing by a 195 

bloody coxcomb. 

Enter Sir Toby and Clown. 

Here comes Sir Toby halting. You shall 
hear more ; but if he had not been in drink, 
he would have tickled you othergates than 
he did. 200 

Duke. How now, gentleman! How is't with 
you? 

Sir To. That's all one. Has hurt me, and 
there's the end on't. Sot, didst see Dick 
surgeon, sot? 



Act V. Sc. L] TWELFTH NIGHT. 147 

205 Clo. 0, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. 
His eyes were set at eight i' the morning. 
Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures 

pavin. I hate a drunken rogue. 
Oli. Away with him! Who hath made this 
210 havoc with them? 

Sir And. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll 

be dressed together. 
Sir To. Will you help? An ass-head and a cox- 
comb and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull! 
215 Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to. 
[Exeunt Clotvn, Fabian, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. 

Enter Sebastian. 
Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins- 
man; 
But, had it been the brother of my blood, 
I must have done no less with wit and safety. 
You throw a strange regard upon me, and 
by that 
220 I do perceive it hath offended you. 

Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
We made each other but so late ago. 
Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two 
persons, 
A natural perspective, that is and is not! 
225 Seb. Antonio, my dear Antonio ! 

How have the hours racked and tortured me, 
Since I have lost thee ! 
Ant. Sebastian are you? 
Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio? 



148 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

Ant. How have you made division of yourself? 

An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin 230 

Than these two creatures. Which is Sebas- 
tian? 

01%. Most wonderful ! 

Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother, 
Nor can there be that deity in my nature, 
Of here and every where. I had a sister, 235 
Whom the blind waves and surges have 

devoured. 
Of charity, what kin are you to me? 
What countryman? What name? What 
parentage? 

Vio. Of Messaline; Sebastian was my father; 

Such a Sebastian was my brother too ; 240 

So went he suited to his watery tomb. 
If spirits can assume both form and suit 
You come to fright us. 

S<>b. A spirit I am indeed; 

But am in that dimension grossly clad 
Which from my birth I did participate. 345 

Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, 
And say, "Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!" 

Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow. 

Seb. And so had mine. 250 

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her 
birth 
Had numbered thirteen years. 

Seb. 0, that record is lively in my soul ! 



Act V. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 149 

He finished indeed his mortal act 
255 That day that made my sister thirteen years. 
Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both 
But this my masculine usurped attire, 
Do not embrace me till each circumstance 
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump 
260 That I am Viola ; which to confirm, 

I'll bring you to a captain in this town, 
Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle 

help 
I was preserved to serve this noble count. 
All the occurrence of my fortune since 
265 Hath been between this lady and this lord. 
Seb. [To Olivia.] So comes it, lady, you have 
been mistook; 
But nature to her bias drew in that. 
You would have been contracted to a maid ; 
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived, 
270 You are betrothed both to a maid and man. 
Duke. Be not amazed, right noble is his blood. 
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 
I shall have share in this most happy wreck. 
[To Viola.] Boy, thou hast said to me a 
thousand times 
2?5 Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. 
Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear ; 

And all those swearings keep as true in soul 
As doth that orbed continent the fire 
That severs day from night. 
Duke. > Give me thy hand, 



150 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 280 
Vio. The captain that did bring me first on shore 
Hath my maid's garments. He upon some 

action 
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, 
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. 
Oli. He shall enlarge him ; fetch Malvolio hither. 285 
And yet, alas, now I remember me, 
They say, poor gentleman, he's much dis- 
tract. 

Re-enter Clown with a letter , and Fabian, 

A most extracting frenzy of mine own 
Prom my remembrance clearly banished his. 
How does he, sirrah? 290 

Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the 
stave's end as well as a man in his case may 
do. Has here writ a letter to you. I should 
have given't you to-day morning, but as a 
madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills 295 
not much when they are delivered. 

Oli. Open't, and read it. 

Clo. Look then to be well edified when the fool 
delivers the madman. [Reads.] "By the 
Lord, madam," — 300 

Oli. How now, art thou mad? 

Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness. An 
your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, 
you must allow Vox. 

Oli. Prithee, read i' thy right wits. 305 



Act V. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 151 

Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right 
wits is to read thus ; therefore perpend, my 
princess, and give ear. 
Oli. Eead it you, sirrah. [To Fabian. 

sio Fab. [Reads.] "By the Lord, madam, you 
wrong me, and the world shall know it. 
Though you have put me into darkness and 
given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet 
have I the benefit of my senses as well as 

315 your ladyship. I have your own letter that 
induced me to the semblance I put on; with 
the which I doubt not but to do myself much 
right, or you much shame. Think of me as 
you please. I leave my duty a little un- 

320 thought of and speak out of my injury* 

The madly -used Malvolio." 

Oli. Did he write this? 
Clo. Ay, madam. 

Duke. This savours not much of distraction. 
325 Oli. See him delivered, Fabian ; bring him hither. 

[Exit Fabian. 
My lord, so please you, these things further 

thought on, 
To think me as well a sister as a wife, 
One day shall crown the alliance on't, so 

please you, 
Here at my house and at my proper cost. 
330 Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your 
offer. 



152 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

[To Viola.] Your master quits you; and for 

your service done him, 
So much against the mettle of your sex, 
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, 
And since you called me master for so long, 
Here is my hand. You shall from this time 335 

be 
Your master's mistress. 
Oli. A sister! You are she. 

Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. 

Duke. Is this the madman? 

OIL Ay, my lord, this same. 

How now, Malvolio ! 
Mai. Madam, you have done me wrong, 

Notorious wrong. 
Oli. Have I, Malvolio? No. 

Mai. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that 340 
letter. 
You must not now deny it is your hand. 
Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase; 
Or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention. 
You can say none of this. Well, grant it 

then 
And tell me, in the modesty of honour, 345 

Why you have given me such clear lights of 

favour, 
Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to 

you, 
To put on yellow stockings and to frown 



Act V. Sc. i.] TWELFTH NIGHT. 153 

Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people ; 

350 And, acting this in an obedient hope, 

Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned, 
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 
And made the most notorious geek and gull 
That e'er invention played on? Tell me why. 

355 OU. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, 

Though, I confess, much like the character; 
But out of question 'tis Maria's hand. 
And now I do bethink me, it was she 
First told me thou wast mad. Thou earnest 
in smiling, 

360 And in such forms which here were pre- 
supposed 
Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content. 
This practice hath most shrewdly passed upon 

thee; 
But when we know the grounds and authors 

of it, 
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 

365 Of thine own cause. 

Fab. Good madam, hear me speak, 

And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come 
Taint the condition of this present hour, 
Which I have wondered at. In hope it shall 

not, 
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby 

370 Set this device against Malvolio here, 

Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
We had conceived against him. Maria writ 



154 TWELFTH NIGHT. [Act V. Sc. i. 

The letter at Sir Toby's great importance, 
In recompense whereof he hath married her. 
How with a sportful malice it was followed 375 
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, 
If that the injuries be justly weighed 
That have on both sides passed. 

OH. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee! 

Olo. Why, "some are born great, some achieve 390 
greatness, and some have greatness thrown 
mpon them." I was one, sir, in this inter- 
lude; one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all one. 
"By the Lord, fool, I am not mad." But do 
you remember? "Madam, why laugh you at3#3 
such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he's 
gagged." And thus the whirligig of time 
brings in his revenges. 

Mah I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. 

[Exit. 

OIL He hath been most notoriously abused. 390 

Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace. 
He hath not told us of the captain yet. 
When that is known and golden time con- 
vents, 
A solemn combination shall be made 
Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, 3»5 
We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; 
For so you shall be, while you are a man ; 
But when in other habits you are seen, 
Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen. 

[Exeunt all, except Clown. 



Act V. Sc. L] TWELFTH NIGHT. 155 

Clo. [Sings.] 
400 When that I was and a little tiny boy, 
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
A foolish thing was but a toy, 
For the rain it raineth every day. 

But when I came to man's estate, 
405 With hey, ho, &c. 

'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their 
gate, 
For the rain, &c. 

But when I came, alas ! to wive, 
With hey, ho, &c. 
410 By swaggering could I never thrive. 
For the rain, &c. 

But when I came unto my beds, 

With hey, ho, &c. 
With toss-pots still had drunken heads, 
415 For the rain, &c. 

A great while ago the world begun, 

With hey, ho, &c. 
But that's all one, our play is done, 

And we'll strive to please you every day. 

[Exit. 



NOTES. 



ABBREVIATIONS. 

A.— The Arden Shakespeare. Twelfth Night, ed. by A. D. 
Innis. 

Abbott.— A Shakespearian Grammar, by E. A. Abbott, 
London, 1879. 

Clar. — Clarendon Press Series, ed. by W. Aldis Wright. 

Var.— The Variorum Shakespeare, ed. by H. H. Furness. 

N. E. D. —A New English Dictionary on Historical Prin- 
ciples, ed. by J. A. H. Murray, Henry Bradley, and W. A. 
Craigie. 

Title.— Twelfth Night, or What You Will. Twelfth Night 
is the eve of the festival of the Epiphany, the celebration of 
the visit of the Magi to the infant Christ, occurring on the 
sixth of January, or twelve days after Christmas. It marked 
the close of the Christmas festivities, and was often cele- 
brated by plays and similar entertainments. It is probable 
that the title, which bears no reference to the conteDts of the 
drama, was given because of the date of its first perform- 
ance. The sub-title may be taken as indicating Shakspere's 
indifference as to what it might be called. 

ACT I. 

I. i. The first scene strikes the sentimental note which is 
the key to Orsino's character, and indicates his relation 
to Olivia, which is the basis of the main plot. 

I. i. 3. The appetite. I.e., for music, not love. 

I. i. 4. Fall. Cadence. 

I. i. 5. Sound. This word has been much questioned, and 
many editors have adopted Pope's substitution of "south.*' 
But it seems necessary merely to understand it as a poetic 
shortening of " sound of the wind.** 

I. i. 9. Quick. Living. 

I. i. 12. Validity. Value. Pitch. Height of wortfe. 
156 



NOTES. 157 

I. i. 14. Fancy. Love. This use is frequent in Shakspere. 
Cf . Merchant of Venice, III. ii. 63-64, 

Tell me where is fancy bred, 
Or in the heart or in the head? 

I. i. 15. That it is the one most highly imaginative state. 
I. i. 17. Hart. This pun occurs elsewhere in Shakspere. 
Cf. Julius Caesar, III. i. 207-208, 

O world, thou wast the forest to this hart, 
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee ; 

and also As You Like It, III. ii. 260. 

I. i. 18. The noblest. I.e., Olivia's. 

I. i. 21. Turned into a hart. The allusion, a common one 
in Elizabethan literature, is to the story of Actaeon, who, 
having looked on Diana bathing, was turned into a stag, 
and torn by his own hounds. 

I. i. 24. So please. May it so please. 

I. i. 26. Element. Air or sky. Seven years' heat. Seven 
summers. 

I. i. 33-34. That fine frame to pay. So finely constituted as 
to pay. 

I. i. 35. Golden shaft. The allusion is to a fancy, frequent 
in poetry since Ovid, that Cupid had arrows tipped with dif- 
ferent metals, those with gold causing love, those with lead, 
hate, etc. 

I. i. 37. IAver, brain, and heart. According to the old pop- 
ular belief, these organs were the seats of the passions, the 
reason, and the sentiments, respectively. 

I. i. 39. Self. Single. The general sense of the passage 
is, "When all her powers and perfections are dominated by 
one person, i.e., her husband." 

L i. 40-41. Note that the scene ends as it began, with an 
utterance expressive of the Duke's self-indulgent nursing of 
his emotions. 

I. ii. This short scene carries on the exposition of the 
initial situation by introducing the heroine, giving further 
details about Orsino and Olivia and their mutual relations, 
and providing a motive for Viola's disguise. The later 
appearance of Sebastian is also prepared for. 



158 NOTES. 

I. ii. 1, 2. For metre cf. Introduction, p. 36, 3. 

I. ii. 5. Perchance. Used here and in line 7 in the ordinary 
sense of "perhaps," in line 6, punningly, in the original 
sense of "by chance." 

I. ii. 10. Those poor number. Number is taken as a col- 
lective, and the demonstrative made to agree with the plu- 
ral idea. Cf . I. v. 100. 

I. ii. 14. Lived. The usual sailors' word for "remained 
afloat." 

I. ii. 15. Arion. The Greek musician, who, according to 
the fable, when thrown overboard by sailors who wished 
to get his wealth, was borne ashore by the dolphins which 
had gathered round the ship to listen to his lyre. 

I: ii. 17, 18. For metre see Introduction, p. 36, 3 

I. ii. 21. The like. A like escape. For metre see Intro- 
duction, p. 38, 6. 

I. ii. 42. Delivered. Declared, made manifest. 

I. ii. 43-44. The Folios have no comma after mellow, which 
must then be taken as a verb, giving the sense, "Till I had 
made my opportunity ripen my condition (which at present 
is not ripe for exposure)." With the punctuation in the 
text, mellow is an adjective, and the sense is, "O that I might 
not be exposed as to my condition, till I had made a ripe 
opportunity." 

I. ii. 53. Me. For this redundant object cf . I. v. 281, "I see 
you what you are." 

I. ii. 59. Allow. Cause to be acknowledged. 

I. ii. 62. Mute. Mutes are frequently associated with 
eunuchs in accounts of Eastern courts. 

I. iii. This scene introduces the characters of the comic 
underplot. Being farcical, it is written in prose. 

I. iii. 1. A plague. An interjectional phrase like "the mis- 
chief." Its full form was probably, "In the name of the 
plague." 

I. iii. 5. Cousin. This word was used to denote a much 
wider range of relationship than at present, and its use here 
does not contradict the implication of "niece" in line 1. Cf. 
As You Like It, I. iii. 44, "Ros. Me, uncle? Duke F. You, 
cousin." 

L iii. 7. Except before excepted. A formal law phrase 



NOTES. 159 

which the sound of "exceptions" called to Sir Toby's mind. 
Many of his jokes have no point except as expressing the 
muddled workings of a besotted mind. Cf . his next speech. 

I. iii. 9. Modest. Moderate. 

I. iii. 21. Tall. Bold, manly. 

I. iii. 28. Viol-de-gamboys. The bass-viol or violoncello ; 
Italian, viola da gamba, so called because held between the 
legs. 

I. iii. 31. Almost natural. Almost like a "natural" or 
idiot. 

I. iii. 84. Gust. Relish. 

I. iii. 38. Subsiraetors. A drunken error for "detractors." 

I. iii. 45. Coystrill. A base fellow. 

I. iii. 47. Parish top. U A large top was formerly kept in 
every village, to be whipped in frosty weather, that the 
peasants may be kept warm by exercise, and out of mischief, 
while they could not work." Steevens, in Var. Castiliano 
vulgo. If this phrase had any meaning for Sir Toby, it is 
now lost. 

I. iii. 56. Chambermaid. Not in the modern sense, for 
Maria is called by Olivia "my gentlewoman" (I. v. 182-83) and 
seems to act as lady's maid and companion to her mistress. 

I. iii. 62. Board. The naval term, used often by Shak- 
spere in the sense of "address," "woo." 

I. iii. 75. Thought is free. Maria quotes the proverb in 
answer to Sir Andrew's question in line 71, meaning to say 
that she can think if she likes that she has to do with a fool. 

I. iii. 76. Buttery-bar. The ledge along the top of the 
half-door, over which liquor was served from the butts in 
the cellar. 

I. iii. 80-84. Dry. The play here is on the different senses 
of "dry" — (1) opposed to moist figuratively, a moist hand 
being taken as a sign of amorousness ; (2) opposed to moist 
literally; (3) stupid, 

I. iii. 87. Barren. I.e., of jests. 

I. iii. 88. Canary. A sweet wine from the Canary Islands. 

I. iii. 89. Put down. Got the better of. 

I. iii. 106. Sir Andrew misses Sir Toby's pun on 
"tongues" and "tongs," which were once pronounced alike. 

I. iii. 108. Curl by nature. This is Theobald's emendation 



160 NOTES. 

for the Folio reading "coole my nature," which obscured 
both the play on "tongues" and that on art and nature. 

I. iii. 115. Count. In I. ii. 25 and in the prefixes to his 
speeches, Orsino is called Duke; elsewhere, as here, Count. 
The inconsistency seems to be a mere oversight. 

I. iii. 134. Kickshawses. Trifles. The singular "kick- 
shaw" is a corruption of the French quelque cTiose, something, 
anything. 

I. iii. 129. Galliard. A lively dance. 

I. iii. 133. Back-trick. Exactly what feat in dancing is 
here referred to has not been certainly made out. 

I. iii. 137-38. Mistress MalVs picture. It is probable that the 
name here is merely typical. No plausible identification 
has been made. 

I. iii. 140. Cor ante A dance with a running or gliding 
step. Fi\, courante. 

I. iii. 147. Darned coloured stock. The color of Sir An- 
drew's stocking has caused much controversy. The Folio 
reading, preserved here, suggests merely "damned," which 
is not impossible. The favorite emendations have been 
"flame," "damask," "dove," "damson," etc., none of which 
is convincing. 

I. iii. 149. Taurus. The reference is to the astrological 
belief that each of the signs of the zodiac affected a part of 
the human body. Taurus governed the neck and throat, so 
that both knights are in error. 

I. iv. This scene presents the beginning of the main com- 
plication — Viola's love for Orsino, and her office as proxy- 
wooer of Olivia. 

I. iv. 5. Humour. Caprice, or disposition. Both senses 
are common in Shakspere. 

I. iv. 14. But. Used by Shakspere for "than" after 
negatives. 

I. iv. 21. Spoke. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (c) . 

I. iv. 22. Civil bounds. See Introduction, p. 39, 1. 

I. iv. 29. Nuncio. Messenger. 

I. iv. 33. Rubious. Ruby-colored. 

I. iv. 34. Sound. Not broken or cracked. 

I. iv. 35. Semblative. Resembling. This word is not found 
elsewhere. 



NOTES. 161 

I. iv. 36. Thy constellation. The constellation under which 
you were born and which determined your temperament; 
so, here, your qualities in general. 

I iv. 42. Barful. Full of hindrances. Strife. Attempt. 

I. v. The pause between this scene and the previous one 
is longer than that between I. v. and II. i., a fact which has 
led Spedding and others to begin the second act here. 

I. v. 6. Fear no colours. Fear nothing, the flag of no foe. 
The phrase was common and is introduced here to permit 
a pun on "collars" with reference to hanging. 

I. v. 9. Lenten. Lean, spare, like meals in Lent. 

I. v. 22-23. For turning away . . . out. As for being dis- 
missed, let summer (when food and lodging are easily had) 
make it supportable. Others suggest puns on "turning 
away" and "turning of whey," or "turning o' hay." Clar 
suggests, "Wait till summer comes, and see if it is true" — 
implying that such threats had been frequent. 

I. v. 26. Points. Maria goes on to pun on "points" in the 
sense of the laces with metal points that were used on the 
clothing instead of buttons — in the present instance, to 
fasten the hose to the doublet. 

I. v. 28. Gaskins. Breeches or hose. 

I. v. 35. You were hest. Originally "you" in this phrase 
was a dative, the full phrase being "it were best for you." 
Cf. II. ii. 28, III. iv. 12, and Abbott, §230. 

I. v. 40. Quinapalus. An imaginary authority, quoted in 
ridicule of the pedantic fashion of the time. Witty. Wise. 

I. v. 46. Dry. Stupid. Cf. I. iii. 80-84, note. 

I. v. 47. Dishonest. Badly behaved. 

I. v. 48. Madonna. My lady. 

I. v. 53. Botcher. Patcher. 

I. v. 58-59. As there is . . . flower. In this nonsensical 
parody of a proverb, the clown is merely talking to postpone 
the scolding he expects. 

I. v. 63. Misprision. Mistake, or, in law, criminal 
neglect in regard to the crime of another. It is not likely 
that Shakspere meant the clown to use it accurately. 

I. v. 64. Cucullus, etc. The cowl does not make the monk. 

I. v. 69. Dexteriously. This may not be intended for a 
wrong form, as both "dexterious" and "dexteriously" 



162 NOTES. 

are found several times in 17th century works. See 
N. E. D. 

I. v. 71-72. Good my. My good ; formed on the analogy of 
phrases like "good my lord," in which the possessive has 
become attached to the noun, as in Fr. monsieur, or Ital. 
madonna. Cf. II. v. 195-96, "Dear my sweet." 

I. v. 72. Mouse of virtue. Virtuous mouse. "Mouse" was 
an affectionate term, and its use here indicates the extent of 
the license permitted to professional fools. For the form of 
the phrase, see Introduction, p. 39, 1. 

I. v. 95. With. For this use of with for "by," cf. Julius 
Caesar, III. ii. 201, "Marr'd, as you see, with traitors. " 

I. v. 100. These set kind of fools. The plural demonstrative 
here may be explained like "those" in I. ii. 10, "those poor 
number," or as due to the attraction of the plural "fools." 
It is a common colloquial mistake in modern speech. 

I. v. 101. Fools 1 zanies. "A fool's zany is a buffoon who 
imitates the real fool in a grotesque manner." [Clar.] 

I. v. 103. Distempered. Disordered, unhealthy. 

I. v. 105. Bird-bolts. Blunt arrows shot from a cross-bow 

I. v. 107. Allowed. Licensed, professional. 

I. v. 108. Nor no. See Introduction, p. 41, 4, (a) 

I. v. 110. Leasing. Lying. Mercury was the god of 
liars. 

I. v. 112-13. Gentleman much desires. For omission of the 
relative cf . Abbott, §244, and line 206, below. 

I. v. 119-120. Speaks nothing but madman. Speaks only 
madman's nonsense. 

I. v. 126. Spoke. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (c). 

L v. 128. Here he comes. I.e., Sir Toby. 

I. v. 129. Pia mater. The inner membrane of the brain ; 
used here for the brain itself. 

I. v. 146. Heat. The point where wine makes him warm. 

I. v. 149. Crowner. Coroner. 

I. v. 164. Sheriff's post. Carved and painted posts were 
set up before the houses of mayors and sheriffs. 

I. v. 165. But. Unless. Cf . line 307, below. 

I. v. 174. Squash. An unripe peascod. 

I. v. 175. Codling. Usually, a hard kind of apple ; here, 
an unripe one. 



NOTES. 163 

I. v. 176. In standing water. "In the condition of standing 
water" [Clar.], i.e., between ebb and flow. 

I. v. 178. Shrewishly. Sharply. 

I. v. 195. Con. Learn by heart. 

I. v. 197. Comptible . . . usage. Sensitive to the least ill- 
treatment. (Or comptible may mean "likely to call people to 
account."') 

I. v. 201. Modest. Cf. I. iii. 9, note. 

I. v. 205. My profound heart. Used with playful reference 
to Olivia's cleverness in detecting the theatrical allusions 
in Viola's use of "speech," "con," "part," "studied," 
etc. 

I. v. 205-206. By the very fangs, etc. The most malicious 
inquiry could find out nothing worse about me than that I 
am not, etc. 

I. v. 211. From. Out of. 

I. v. 212. Will on. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (d). 

I. v. 215. Forgive. Excuse you from uttering. 

I. v. 224. That time of moon. The reference is to the sup- 
posed effect of the moon in causing or increasing lunacy. 

I. v. 228. Swabber. From swab, to clean the decks, etc., of 
a ship. Hull. Float without hoisting sail. 

I. v. 229. Giant. From II. iii. 202, II. v. 15, and III. ii. 72, 
it appears that Maria was small. 

I. v. 230. Tell me your mind. If these words belong to 
Viola, the meaning seems to be, "Do you assent to your 
at tendant' s attempt to put me out ? ' ' Many editors give the 
words to Olivia. 

I. v. 236. Overture. Declaration. Taxation. Demand. 

I. v. 237. Olive. The symbol of peace. 

I. v. 242. Entertainment. Reception. 

I. v. 244. Maidenhead. Maidenhood. 

I. v. 250. Comfortable. Comforting— a Scriptural usage, 
in keeping with the figure introduced by Viola's use of 
"divinity." 

I. v. 263-64. Such a one I was— this present. With this 
punctuation (the dash is not in the Folios) , the sense is as 
follows : Olivia is using the conventional language of show- 
ing a portrait. "Such a one I was" would be the common 
phrase, followed by "at such and such a date." But the 



164 NOTES. 

date of portraiture is this present, even now. There have 
been many conjectural emendations. 

I. v. 264. Well done. Here she still keeps up the language 
of portraiture. The idea of an artificial complexion is not 
introduced before Viola's next speech. 

I. v. 266. Tis in grain. I.e., it will not wash out. The 
phrase originally had reference to a seed-like insect from 
which a fast dye was made. 

I. v. 270. She. For "she" used for "woman," cf. As You 
Like It, III. ii. 10, "The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive 
she." 

I. v. 276. Labelled. "Label" had a special sense of a paper 
appended to a will, a codicil. Item. Likewise, used to intro- 
duce each new article in an enumeration. 

I. v. 280. Praise. Appraise, value. The preceding enu- 
meration suggests the valuator's term. 

I. v. 281. You. Cf. I. ii. 53. 

I. v. 286. For metre, see Introduction, p. 36, 3. 

I. v. 291. Voices. Public opinion. Divulged. Reputed. 
Free. Generous. 

I. v. 292. Dimension. Bodily shape. Cf . v. i. 244. 

I. v. 293. Gracious. Physically attractive. 

I. v. 294. Toole. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (c). 

I. v. 295. In my master's flame. With as fierce a passion as 
my master. 

I. v. 299. Willow. The symbol of rejected love. 

I. v. 301. Cantons. Cantos. 

I. v. 303. Reverberate. Usually and properly in a passive 
sense, but here = "reverberant," "echoing." 

I. v. 307. But. Cf. I. v. 165. 

I. v. 309. State. Estate, condition. 

I. v. 324. Blazon. Description of armorial bearings. Her 
gentility is proclaimed by her whole manner and appearance 
as clearly as it would be by the coat of arms of her family. 
For metre, see Introduction, p. 37, 4. 

I. v. 331. Peevish. Foolish. The word is here merely a 
vague term of disapproval, used by Olivia to disguise her 
feelings. 

I. v. 333. County. Count. 

I. v. 335. Flatter with. See Introduction, p. 41, 5, (b), 



NOTES. 165 

I. v. 340-41. I fear that my mind (i.e., my heart) will not 
be able to resist the too favorable impression conveyed 
through my eyes. 

I. v. 342. Owe, Own. 

ACT II. 

II. i. This scene, which introduces the remaining impor- 
tant character, appears to be out of place. II. ii. follows 
immediately on I. v., and Innis shows "that a night inter- 
venes between II. ii. and the concluding scenes of the play ; 
whereas a night does not intervene between Sebastian's 
parting from Antonio and the final scene." Var. notes that 
in Irving' s acting version II. i. becomes III. ii. 

The scene is entirely Shakspere's invention, as no charac- 
ter corresponding to Antonio occurs in any other known ver- 
sion of the story. 

II. i. 1. Nor , . . not. See Introduction, p. 41, 4, (a). 

II. i. 5. Distemper. Influence harmfully. 

II. i. 12. Extravagancy. Aimless wandering. "My jour- 
ney to a fixed destination is not such at all." 

II. i. 15. It charges me in manners. Courtesy compels me. 

II. i. 16. Express. Reveal. 

II. i. 25. Breach of the sea. Breakers. 

II. i. 31. Such estimable wonder. Wonder that estimates 
her so highly. 

II. i. 39. Murder me— by breaking my heart over losing you. 

II. i. 49. Gentleness. Favor. 

II. ii. 8. Desperate. Hopeless. 

II. ii. 10-11. So ha7*dy to come. So bold as to come. 

II. ii. 13. So. On those terms. 

II. ii. 15. Peevishly. A reminiscence of Olivia's adjective 
in I. v. 331. 

II. ii. 20. Forbid * . . not. This is a sort of double nega- 
tive See Introduction, p. 41, 4, (a). 

II. ii. 22. Sure. This word is not found in the first Folio, 
but is adopted from the later Folios to complete the metre. 
Lost. Caused her to lose. 

II. ii. 28. She were better. Cf . I. v. 35, and III. iv. 12. 

II. ii. 30. Pregnant. Ready, clever. Cf. III. i. 97. Enemy. 
Devil. 



166 NOTES. 

II. ii. 31. Proper-false. Handsome but false. 

II. ii. 35. Fadge. Suit the situation. 

II. ii. 36. Fond. Dote. 

II. ii. 41. Thriftless. Profitless. 

II. iii. 3. Deluculo surgere saluberrimum est. To rise early is 
most healthful. This is a quotation from Lilly's Latin Gram- 
mar, the usual Latin text-book in Shakspere's school- 
days. 

II. iii. 10-11. The four elements. Earth, air, fire, and water, 
of which all bodies were supposed to be constituted. 

II. iii. 15. Stoup. Drinking cup. 

II. iii. 18. The picture of 'Hve three." The reference is to a 
common picture of two fools or asses, with an inscription, 
"We three are fools" (or asses, or loggerheads), the specta- 
tor being the third. 

II. iii. 19. Catch. Part-song. 

II. iii. 21. Breast. Voice. 

II. iii. 25-26. Pigrogromitus . . . Queubus. This is, of course, 
merely Sir Andrew's unintelligible version of the fool's 
intentional nonsense. 

II. iii. 28. Leman. Sweetheart. 

II. iii. 29. I did impeticos, etc. The only comment neces- 
sary is the next speech. 

II. iii. 37. Testril. Sixpence. 

II. iii. 43 ff. mistress mine, etc. This song appears in 
print as early as 1599, and is quite possibly not Shakspere's. 
Cf. Introduction, p. 30. 

II. iii. 55. Sweet and twenty. This has been variously 
interpreted: (1) as referring to the kisses; (2) sweet as a 
vocative, and twenty, referring to the kisses. This requires 
a comma after sweet. (3) The whole phrase as a vocative. 

II. iii. 59. Contagious breath. Sir Toby seems to use the 
word contagious on the chance that Sir Andrew will take it 
up without understanding it, as he immediately does. Breath 
is ambiguous, meaning: (1) voice, as in line 22, above; 
(2) breath, in the modern sense, as is implied in the use of 
nose in line 61. 

II. iii. 62. Welkin. Sky. 

II. iii. 64. Three souls, etc. Simply a humorous exaggera- 
tion of the power of music. It is highly improbable that any 



NOTES. 167 

reference to the peripatetic philosophy, such as some have 
found here, was intended. 
II. iii. 66-67. Dog at. Good at; a slang phrase. 

II. iii. 84. Catalan. Properly a native of Cataia or Cathay, 
i.e., China. The word seems to have been used vaguely for 
"rogue." 

II. iii. 85. Peg-a-Ramsey. A name caught at random from 
an old song. 

II. iii. 85-86. " Three merry men be we." A fragment of an 
old song. 

II. iii. 87-88. Tillyvally. A common expression of con- 
tempt. 

II. iii. 88-89. "There dwelt," etc. Another fragment of an 
old song, suggested apparently by his contemptuous repe- 
tition of Maria's "Lady." 

II. iii. 95. "0, the twelfth," etc. This song has not been 
identified. 

II. iii. 102. Coziers*. Cobblers'. Men of sedentary occupa- 
tions, such as weavers, tailors, and cobblers, are often 
referred to as given to singing. 

II. iii. 107. Sneck up! Shut up! 

II. iii. 108. Round. Direct, outspoken. 

II. iii. 116 ff. "Farewell," etc. This and the six following 
fragments are from Corydon's Farewell to Phyllis, which 
appeared in Eobert Jones's Booke of Ay res, 1601. See In- 
troduction, p. 30. 

II. iii. 132. Cakes and ale. The reference is to the riotous 
eating and drinking at church festivals, of which the Puri- 
tans strongly disapproved. See line 160, below. 

II. iii. 135-36. Rub your chain. Mind your own business. 
The chain was the badge of office of a steward. 

II. iii. 139-40. Uncivil rule. Disorderly behavior. 

II. iii. 153. A nay word. The Folios read "an ay word," which 
is not found elsewhere. It seems to be used as = ' 'bye word . ' ' 

II. iii. 157. Possess us. Put us into possession, tell us. 

II. iii. 168. Affectioned. Affected. 

II. iii. 169. Cons state. Learns dignity by heart. Utters. 
Gives out, not necessarily in words. 

II. iii. 170. Swarths. Corrupt form of "swaths." A swath 
is what falls within a single sweep of a scythe. 



168 NOTES. 

II. iii. 170-71. Best persuaded of himself. Most convinced of 
his own merits, most conceited. 
II. iii. 180. Expressure. Expression. So "impressure" in 

II. v. 101. 

II. iii. 181-82. Feelingly personated. Exactly described. 

II. iii. 183. On a forgotten matter. In the case of a piece 
of writing which neither of us can remember having 
done. 

II. iii. 190-91. A horse of that colour. Cf. As You Like It, 

III. ii. 434-35, "Boys and women are for the most part cattie 
of this colour." 

II. iii. 194. Ass. Shakspere again puns on "as" and "ass*' 
in Hamlet, V. ii. 43, "Many such-like ^ises of great charge." ' 

II. iii. 202. Penthesilea. Queen of the Amazons. Another 
reference to Maria's small size. Cf. I. v. 229, note. 

II. iii. 209. Recover. Win. 

II. iii. 210. Out. Out of pocket, 

II. iii. 212. Cut. A term of contempt; probably from cut, 
a horse. 

II. iii. 215. Burn some sack. Sack was a Spanish wine. 
"The derivation of the word is no doubt from sec, dry; not 
because sack was a dry wine in the modern sense of the word, 
but because it was made of grapes which in a very hot 
summer were dried almost to raisins by the sun, and so 
contained a large quantity of sugar." [Clar.] To bum or 
mull sack was to warm and spice it. 

II. iv. 3. Antique. Quaint. "Antic" and "antique" were 
not as clearly differentiated as now. The Folio spelling is 
"anticke." For accent see Introduction, p. 37, 6. 

II. iv. 5. Recollected terms. Carefully elaborated, or, per- 
haps, conventional phrases, as opposed to the "old and plain" 
(1. 43) language of the antique song. 

II. iv. 18. Motions. Mental and emotional activities. 

II. iv. 24. Favour. Countenance. 

II. iv. 25. By your favour. Viola is secretly punning upon 
the two senses : (1) By your grace or leave; (2) Upon your 
countenance. 

II. iv. 30. Wears she to. Comes to fit. 

II. iv. 31. Sways she level. Rules steadily. 

II. iv. 37. Bent. The figure is from a strung bow, and 



NOTES. 169 

may mean either " curve," and so ''inclination,'' or "degree 
of tension," and so "force," "capacity." 

II. iv. 44. Spinster. In the original sense of "a woman 
who spins." 

II. iv. 45. Free. Care-free. Bones. Usually explained as 
the bobbins made of bone used in lace-making. 

II. iv. 46. Silly sooth. Simple truth. 

II. iv. 48. The old age. The good old times. 

II. iv. 51 ff. Song. Some have doubted whether this be 
the original song, as it has seemed to them not to fit the 
Duke's description. The songs in plays were often left to 
the choice of the actor. 

II. iv. 52. Cypress. It is disputed whether this means 
(1) a shroud of cypress, i.e., crape; (2) a coffin of cypress 
wood; or (3) a bier strewn with sprigs of cypress. The 
fifth line of the song seems to favor (2) . 

II. iv. 75. Taffeta. Silk. 

II. iv. 89. For metre, see Introduction, pp. 35-36, 1. 

II. iv. 94. There is . . . sides. See Introduction, p. 39, 3, 
(a). Note the Duke's characteristic inconsistency in his 
statements about women and love. 

II. iv. 97. Retention. Power of retaining. 

II. iv. 99. Motion. Emotion. The liver was supposed to 
be the seat of the passions. 

II. iv. 100. The antecedent of that is contained in "their." 
Cloyment. Cloying. 

II. iv. 110. For metre, see Introduction, pp. 35-36, 1. 

II. iv. 113. Thought. Sorrow, melancholy, brooding. 

II. iv. 116. Smiling, of course, goes with "she," not with 
"patience." 

II. iv. 123. Shall I to. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (d). 

II. iv. 125. Denay. Denial. 

II. v. 1. Ways. Originally an adverbial genitive. 

II. v. 6. Sheep-biUr, A dog that has acquired the habit 
of biting sheep becomes worthless. So the phrase is used 
as a general term of reproach, like "cur." 

II. v. 9-10. Bear-baiting was one of the sports aaost rep- 
robated by the Puritans. 

II. v. 16. Metal of India. Gold. 

II. v. 19. Behaviour. Deportment. 



170 NOTES. 

II. v. 23. Close. Hide yourselves. 

II. v. 27. Affect. Love. 

II. v. 29. Fancy. Love. 

II. v. 31. Follows. I.e., as a servant. 

II. v. 35. Jets. Struts. 

II. v. 36. Advanced. Up-reared. 

II. v. 37. 'Slight. God's light. 

II. v. 43-44. Tlie Lady of the Strachy. Evidently an allusion 
to a lost story of the marriage of a lady of rank to a servant. 

II. v. 45. Jezebel. That Sir Andrew should be ignorant 
enough to call Malvolio by a woman's name is quite in 
character, so that no emendation is necessary. 

II. v. 47. Blows. Puffs up. 

II. v. 49. State. Chair of state. 

II. v. 50. Stone-bow. A cross-bow which shoots stones. 

II. v. 52. Branched. With a pattern of flowers and 
leaves. 

II. v. 53. Day-bed. Couch. 

II. v. 56. Humour of state. The caprices allowed to a man 
of rank. 

II. v. 57. A demure travel of regard. A grave glance round. 
Cf. line 71. below. 

II. T. 65. My— . This dash was suggested by Dr. Brins- 
ley Nicholson, who thus interprets: "While Sir Toby is 
being fetched to the presence, the Lord Malvolio would 
frowningly wind up his watch or play with— and here 
from force of habit he fingers [his badge of office] , and is 
about to add 'play with my chain,' but suddenly remem- 
bering that he would be no longer a steward, or other gold- 
chained attendant, he stops short, and then confusedly 
alters his phrase to — 'some rich jewel.' " [Quoted in Var.J 

II. v. 71. Regard. Look. Cf. line 57, above. 

II. v. 89. What employment, etc. Merely a grandiloquent 
phrase for "What's this?" (Some editors read "imple- 
ment.") 

II. v. 90. Woodcock. Proverbial for its stupidity. Cf. 
Hamlet, I. iii. 115, "Springes to catch woodcocks." Gin. 
Snare. 

II. ▼. 91-92. Intimate. Suggest. 

II. v 94-95. Many critics have been disturbed because 



NOTES. 171 

neither C nor P occurs in the address of the letter. But the 
objection is that of a reader, and Shakspere wrote for an 
audience. 

II. v. 95-96. In contempt of question. "So obvious that to 
question it is absurd." [Clar.] 

II. v. 101. Impressure. Cf. II. iii. 180, note. 

II. v. 102. Lucrece. The type of the chaste woman. 

II. v. 110. Numbers altered. I.e., the metre of the next 
stanza is different. 

II. v. 112. Brock. Badger, used as a term of contempt. 

II. v. 116. M, O, A, I. The letters are probably chosen 
merely to mystify Malvolio — as they do. 

II. v. 117. Fustian. Pretentious and worthless. 

II. v. 122. Staniel. A kind of hawk. Checks. Turns 
aside from its proper prey. 

II. v. 126-27. Any formal capacity. Any mind in good form 
or order. 

II. v. 134. Sowter. Apparently the name of a hound. Cry 
upon't, as a dog does when he gets the scent. The passage 
is puzzling, and would certainly be simpler if we read 
a negative after "be," as Hanmer suggested. For, if the 
scent is as rank as a fox, it is inconsistent to refer to it as 
cold (1. 133) or as at fault (1. 139). 

II. v. 139. Faults. Breaks in the line of scent. [N.E.D.] 

II. v. 140-41. I.e., "What follows does not work out con- 
sistently. It breaks down when examined." 

II. v. 150. This simulation, etc. This concealed meaning 
is not so intelligible as "I may command," etc. 

II. v. 151. Crush. Force. 

II. v. 153. Are. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (b). 

II. v. 159. Blood. Courage. 

II. v. 161. Slough. The cast skin of a snake. 

II. v. 162. Opposite. Contradictory. 

II. v. 163-64. Tang arguments of state. Pronounce emphatic- 
ally on state affairs. 

II. v. 165. Trick of singularity. Individual eccentricities 
of manner. 

II. v. 173. Alter services. Exchange places. 

II. v. 175. Champaign. Open country. Discovers. Reveals. 
See Introduction, p. 39, 3, (a). 



172 NOTES. 

II. v. 177. Politic. Dealing- with state affairs. Baffle. 
Treat contemptuously. 

II. v. 178. Gross. Vulgar. 

II. v. 179. Point-devise. Precisely. If followed by a 
comma, it would mean "superfine." 

II. v. 180. Jade. Befool, trick. 

II. v. 184. Manifests. Offers. 

II. v. 188. Strange. Odd, or distant (referring to line 162, 
above). Stoat. Surly (referring to line 163, above). 

II. v. 195-96. Dear my siveet. Cf . I. v. 71-72, note. 

II. v. 201. Sophy. The Shah of Persia. An Englishman, 
Sir Thomas Shirley, had printed in 1600 an account of his 
adventures at the Persian court. 

II. v. 211. Tray-trip. A game played with dice. 

II. v. 219. Aqua-vitae. Strong liquor. 

II. v. 223-24. Abhors . . . detests. Cf. lines 182-83, above. 
Malvolio is so intoxicated with his prospects that he can 
make himself believe anything. 

II. v. 230. Tartar. Tartarus, hell. 

ACT III. 

This act brings to a climax the main plot and also the two 
entanglements of the underplot, viz., the trick played on 
Malvolio, and that on Sir Andrew and Viola. 

III. i. The love of Olivia for Viola, which is hinted at in 
I. v. and II. ii., is here fully declared, and its rejection 
brings about a dead-lock. 

III. i. 2. Tabor. A sort of small drum. 

III. i. 4. Churchman. Clergyman. 

III. i. 13. CheverU. Kid. 

III. i. 23-24. Since bonds, etc. Since a man's bond is needed 
to strengthen his word. Feste puns on word in the sense of 
"promise." 

III. i. 39. Pilchards. Fish very like herrings. 

III. i. 45. But. If . . . not, 

III. i. 48. Pass upon. Impose, play tricks on. Cf. III. ii. 
79 and V. i. 362. It is often interpreted as a figurative use 
of a fencing phrase meaning "to thrust." 

III. i. 50. Commodity. Supply. 



NOTES. 173 

III. i. 55. Pair of these. Pieces of money like what Viola 
has just given him. 

III. i. 56. Use. Interest. 

III. i. 57. Pandarus, etc. In Chaucer's Troilusand Shak- 
spere's Troilus and Cressida, Pandarus is the uncle of Cres- 
sida, who serves as a go-between. 

III. i. 61. Cressida was a beggar. The reference is to Rob- 
ert Henryson's Testament of Cresseid, in which the heroine 
is smitten with leprosy and becomes a beggar. Shakspere 
again alludes to it in Henry V., II. i. 80, u The lazar kite of 
Cressid's kind." Henry son was a Scottish poet of the 
later 15th century. 

III. i. 64-65. Welkin . . . "element" Element was used in the 
sense of "sky" as well as in the sense still familiar in such 
phrases as "out of my element." Feste's wit consists in 
substituting welkin, a synonym for element in the wrong 
sense. 

III. i. 70. Haggard. An untrained hawk. Check. Cf . II. v. 
122, note. Johnson and others have changed the and in this 
line to "not." But it is possible to retain the Folio reading, 
understanding it to mean that while the fool must use dis- 
crimination in choosing time and objects for his wit, he 
must avoid appearing too sensible, by straying aside (i.e., 
"checking") after any object that may offer. 

III. i. 74. Folly-fallen. Fallen into folly. Taint their wit. 
Spoil their reputation for wisdom. 

III. i. 77. Bieu vous garde. God keep you. 

III. i. 78. Et vous, etc. And you also: your servant. 

III. i. 80. Encounter. The delight in playing with words 
seems to have been shared by almost all classes in Shak- 
spere's time. 

III. i. 81. Trade. Business. 

III. i. 84. List. Properly, "border," and so "limit," 
"goal." There is probably also a pun on bound. 

III. i. 85. Taste. Try. 

III. i. 91. Prevented. Anticipated, the original sense. 

III. i. 97. Pregnant. Ready. Cf. II. ii. 30. Note the 
changes in the style of Viola's speeches. With Sir Toby 
and Feste, she is a "corrupter of words" ; when Olivia joins 
them she speaks the stilted language of the courtier; alone 



174 NOTES. 

with the Duke or Olivia, she speaks in highly poetical 
blank verse. 

III. i. 119. Music from the splieres. References to the 
doctrine that the spheres in which the stars were supposed 
to be set joined to make an exquisite harmony as they 
revolved, are very common in older writers. Cf. Merchant 
of Venice, V. i. 60-62, 

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. 

III. i. 123. Abuse. Deceive, impose upon. 

III. i. 126. To force. For forcing. 

III. i. 128-29. Stake ... a baited . . . unmuzzled. The figure 
is from the sport of baiting with dogs a bear tied to a 
stake. 

III. i. 130. Receiving. Capacity, intelligence. 

III. i. 131. Cypress. "A light transparent material 
resembling cobweb lawn or crape,'' probably named from 
the island of Cyprus, from which such stuffs were broug'ht. 
[N. E. D.] It was used also of a kerchief made of this 
material. Gollancz thinks bosom here means "the bosom of 
the dress," and interprets the passage thus: "You can see 
my heart; a thin gauze as it were hides it, not a stomacher. 5> 
But a satisfactory sense is given if we take bosom in its 
ordinary meaning. 

III. i. 134. Grize. Step. Vulgar proof. Common experi- 
ence. Cf. Julius Caesar, II. i. 21-22, 

'Tis a common proof 
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder. 

III. i. 144. Like. See Introduction, p. 41, 4, (b). Proper. 
Fine, handsome. 

III. i. 150. I.e., in love with a woman. 

III. i. 162. Maugre. In spite of. 

III. i. 165. For that. Because. 

III. i. 166-67. For metre, see Introduction, p. 35, 1. 

III. ii. 13. 'Slight. Cf. II. v. 37, note. 

III. ii. 20. Dormouse. Sleepy, like the dormouse, that 
sleeps all winter. 



NOTES. 175 

III. ii. 28. Into the north. Out of the sunshine and 
warmth. 

III. ii. 35. Brownist. The sect of Brownists was begun 
in 1582 by Kobert Brown. They dissented from the dis- 
cipline and form of government of the English church, 
and were forerunners of the Independents. Politician, 
Intriguer. 

III. ii. 36. Me. See Introduction, p. 39, 2. (c). 

III. ii. 46. Curst. Ill-tempered. 

III. ii. 49. Thou'st. In conversation "thou" was used 
only between intimate friends or, as here, to one treated as 
an inferior. Hence, in a challenge, it was insulting. 

III. ii. 53. Bed of Ware. "An enormous bed, capable of 
holding twelve persons, now to be seen at the Rye-House. 
It was ten feet nine inches square and seven feet and a half 
high, and till about [1864] was in the Saracen's Head Inn at 
Ware." [Clar.] For a picture of it, see Chambers's Book 
of Days, i. 229, or Knight's Shakespeare, at this passage. 

III. ii. 58. Cubiculo. A "corrupted word" for "lodging." 

III. ii. 72. Youngest wren of nine. The Folios read "mine." 
Nearly all modern editors read "nine," as the wren usually 
lays nine eggs, more or less, and the last hatched may be 
supposed to be the smallest. As Maria's part would be 
?.cted by a boy, references to her small stature would 
be likely to be apt. Cf . I. v. 229, note. 

III. ii. 74. Spleen. The physiologists of Shakspere's time 
regarded the spleen as the cause of laughter. 

III. ii. 79. Passages of grossness. Gross tricks or imposi- 
tions. Cf. "pass upon" in III. i. 48, and V. i. 362. 

III. ii. 82. Pedant. Schoolmaster. 

III. ii. 87-88. The new map, etc. This is now generally 
taken to refer to a map issued to accompany the 1599 edition 
of Hakluyt's Voyages, which had a fuller representation 
of the East Indies than any preceding. See Introduction, 
p. 30. 

III. iii. In showing us Sebastian arrived in Orsino's 
town, this scene introduces the factor which is to untie the 
knot with which we were left at the end of III. i. 

III. iii. 6. "And the cause was not altogether love to see 
you, though so much was that love as might have," etc. 



176 NOTES. 

III. iii. 8. Jealousy. Fear. 

III. iii. 9. Being. For participles depending 1 on a pro- 
noun to be inferred from the context, cf . Abbott, § §378, 379. 

III. iii. 15. The words, "thanks. Too" are not found in 
the first Folio, while the later Folios omit verses 15 and 16 
altogether. 

III. iii. 17. WoHh. Wealth, what I anT worth. 

III. iii. 19. Reliques. Explained by verses 23, 24, below. 

III. iii. 26. Count his galleys. See Introduction, p. 39, 
2, (b). 

III. iii. 28. It would scarce be answered. It would be hard 
for me to make a defence that would satisfy him. 

III. iii. 36. Lapsed. Some word meaning "caught*' seems 
to be required by the context, but lapsed is not found else- 
where in this sense. It is probably a corruption. 

III. iii. 46. For idle markets. Full enough to spend on 
unnecessary purchases. 

■ III. iv. In this long scene the underplot culminates in 
the farce of Malvolio's downfall and the encounter of Sir 
Andrew and Viola. This last situation is solved by the 
appearance of Antonio, while fresh complications are 
introduced in his mistaking Viola for Sebastian, and in his 
arrest. 

III. iv. 1. He says heHl come. Since from line 62 it appears 
that the messenger had not yet returned, most editors have 
taken this phrase hypothetically = "Suppose he says," etc. 
Might one not imagine Olivia watching the success of the 
messenger from a distance, and speaking these words as 
she sees Viola consent to come back? 

III. iv. 2. Of. On. See Introduction, p. 41, 5, (a). 

III. iv. 5. Sad. Serious, grave. Cf . As You Like It, III. 
ii. 227, *'Speak sad brow and true maid." Civil. Quiet, 
restrained. 

III. iv. 12. Were best. Cf . I. v. 35, II. ii. 28. 

III. iv. 25-26. Please one, etc. The refrain of an old ballad 
still extant. 

III. iv. 38-39. Nightingales' answer daws, — and so I may 
condescend to answer a servant. 

III. iv. 61. Midsummer madness. The midsummer moon 
was supposed to be particularly potent in causing madness. 



NOTES. 177 

III. iv. 64. Back. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (d). 

III. iv. 70. Miscarry. Come to harm. 

III. iv. 71. Come near. Understand. 

III. iv. 83. Limed. As with bird-lime. 

III. iv. 90. Incredulous. Causing incredulity. 

III. iv. 128. Bawcock. A familiar term meaning "fine 
fellow," from Fr. beau cog, fine cock. 

III. iv. 131. "Biddy, come with me." Probably a snatch of 
a song. 

III. iv. 132. Cherry-pit. A game of pitching cherry-stones 
into a hole. 

III. iv. 133. Collier. In reference to the saying, " 'Like 
will to like,' quoth the devil to the collier." 

III. iv. 145. Genius. Spirit. 

III. iv. 147-48. Take air and taint. Be exposed and so spoiled. 

III. iv. 151. Dark room. The usual treatment of lunatics 
until comparatively recent times. 

III. iv. 159. May morning. A sportive season. 

III. iv. 167. Nor . . . not. See Introduction, p. 41, 4, (a). 
Admire. Wonder. 

III. iv. 184. Windy. Apparently not the "windward," 
but the side towards which the wind blows, so that the law 
can not scent you. Furness suggests a pun on blow, line 
171, above. 

III. iv. 195. Commerce. Conversation, intercourse. 

III. iv. 197. Scout me. See Introduction, p. 39, 2, (c). 

III. iv. 198. Bum-baily. A petty officer who followed 
close behind to make arrests. 

III. iv. 203. Approbation. Testimony. 

III. iv. 213. Clodpole. More properly, "clod-poll" = clod- 
pate. 

III. iv. 220. Cockatrices. "A serpent, identified with the 
Basilisk, fabulously said to kill by its mere glance, and to 
be hatched from a cock's egg.-'' [N. E. D.] 

III. iv 222. Presently. Immediately. After hi/m. See 
Introduction, p. 40, 3, (d). 

III. iv. 227. On '£. This is the Folio reading. The change 
to "out," usually adopted, seems unnecessary. 

III. iv. 233. Jewel. Any precious ornament, not necessa- 
rily a stone. 



178 NOTES. 

III. iv. 248. Despite. Malice. 

III. iv. 249-50. Dismount thy tuck. Draw thy sword. 

III. iv/250. Tare. Ready. 

III. iv. 262. Urihatched. This seems to mean "unhacked," 
and some editors have so emended the line. 

III. iv. 262-63. Dubbed . . . on carpet consideration. 
Knighted at home for money, not on the field for valor. 

III. iv. 268. Hob, nob. Have or have not. 

III. iv. 270. Conduct. Escort. 

III. iv. 273. Quirk. Humour. 

III. iv. 303. Sir priest. "Sir" was applied to priests who 
had taken the bachelor's degree at the university. Cf. Sir 
Topas in IV. ii. 2 fi\, and Sir Oliver Martext in As You 
Like It. 

III. iv. 306. Modern acting editions begin a new icene 
here. 

III. iv. 307. Fir ago. Probably an intentional corruption 
of "virago." The fact that it is properly used of a woman 
need not trouble us in view of Sir Toby's habitual liberties 
with language. 

III. iv. 309. Stuck. A corruption of "stoccata," a thrust. 

III. iv. 310. Answer. The return hit. 

III. iv. 313. Sophy. Cf. II. v. 201, note. 

III. iv. 326. Take up. Make up. Cf . As You Like It, V. 
iv. 104, "I knew, when seven justices could not take up a 
quarrel." 

III. iv. 329. Is as horribly conceited. Has as horrible a 
conception. 

III. iv. 346. Duello. The duelling code. 

III. iv. 357. Undertaker. One who undertakes business 
for another. Schmidt gives it the additional idea of 
"meddler." 

III. iv. 369. Favour. Face. Cf . II. iv. 24. 

III. iv. 385. Having. Property, possessions. 

III. iv. 395. Vainness. Boastfulness. The Folios have no 
comma after babbling, and many editors omit that after 
lying also, making these two words adjectives. 
III. iv. 402. His image. What he appeared to be. 
III. iv. 403. Venerable. Admirable, worshipful, without 
the sense of age. 



NOTES. 179 

III. iv. 406. Feature. Appearance in general. 

III. iv. 408. Unkind. Wanting- in natural affection. 

III. iv. 410. Trunks o'er flourished. Chests with ornamental 
carvings. 

III. iv. 415. So do not 1. This might mean (1) I do not 
believe as he does (that he knows me), or (2) I do not 
believe my own conjecture (that he takes me for Sebastian) 
as firmly as he does his. 

III. iv. 419. A couplet or two, etc. This is said with 
reference to the rhymed maxims in Antonio's speech. 
Furness points out that Viola's speech is an aside. 

III. iv. 422. Yet living in my glass. I am like a mirror 
reflecting his living face, I am so like him. 

III. iv.423. Favour. Cf. line 369, above. 

III. iv. 425. Prove. Prove true. 

III. iv. 432-33. Religious in it. Practising it religiously. [Var. ] 

III. iv. 434. 'Slid. A corruption of "God's (eye) lid." 



ACT IV. 

In the fourth act the plot reaches its highest point of 
complexity. Sebastian is now taken for Viola, as in the 
third act Viola had been taken for Sebastian, and this com- 
plicates not only the humorous situation with Sir Andrew, 
but also the serious one with Olivia. At the same time it 
introduces an element which makes possible the ultimate 
solution of the difficulty caused by Olivia's passion for 
Cesario. 

IV. i. 15. Cockney. An effeminate or affected person. If 
the clown's speech is relevant at all, it probably means, 
"If fine phrases like this are applied to fools' talk, the 
world will soon be overspread with affectation." 

IV. i. 16. Ungvrd thy strangeness. Give up being so dis- 
tant. Feste is using the stilted language in ridicule. 

IV. i. 19. Greek. A merry fellow. 

IV. i. 24-25. After fourteen years' purchase. The market 
price of land at the beginning of the seventeenth century 
was the sum of twelve years' rental. The good report 
bought from a fool would have to be paid for longer than 
its worth deserved. 



180 NOTES. 

IV. i. 43. Fleshed. Rendered eager for slaughter by the 
taste of blood. 

IV. i. 47. Malapert. Saucy. 

IV. i. 51. Ungracious. Graceless. 

IV. i. 55. Rudesby. Ruffian. 

IV. i. 57. Extent. Attack. 

IV. i. 60. Botched up. Patched up, clumsily contrived. 

IV. i. 63. Heart. Cf. I. i. 17, note. 

IV. i. 66. Lethe. That one of the four rivers of Hades 
which brought forget fulness. 

IV. iL For the source from which Shakspere derived 
the main idea of this scene, see Introduction, p. 34. 

IV. ii. 2. Sir Topas. Cf. III. iv. 303, note. 

IV. ii. 10. Said. Called. 

IV. ii. 10-11. Good housekeeper. A hospitable person. 

IV. ii. 12. Competitors. Accomplices. 

IV. ii. 15-16. Hermit of Prague. Jerome. 

IV. ii. 17. Gorbuduc. A legendary British king. Cf. the 
early Elizabethan play so-called. 

IV. ii. 30. Hyperbolical. The clown's corruption of "dia- 
bolical." 

IV. ii. 44. Clerestories. The upper part of the wall of a 
church, containing a row of windows. 

IV. ii. 51-52. Egyptians in their fog. Cf. Exodus, X. 
21. 

IV. ii. 57. Constant question. Consistent or reasonable 
discussion. 

IV. ii. 58. Opinion of Pythagoras. The doctrine of the 
transmigration of souls. 

IV. ii. 68. Woodcock. Cf . II. v. 90. 

IV. ii. 72. For all waters. Up to anything. 

IV. ii. 83 ff. "Hey, Robin" etc. These are fragments of 
an old song to be found in Percy's Reliques of Ancient 
English Poetry. 

IV. ii. 97-98. Five wits. The intellectual powers, which 
were numbered five, like the senses. 

IV. ii. 99. Notoriously. Exceedingly. 

IV. ii. 104. Propertied. The exact meaning is doubtful. 
The usual interpretations are these : (1) Treated me as a 
piece of property, not as a person with a will of his own ; 



NOTES. 181 

(2) Treated me as a stage * 'property," which is thrown into 
a dark lumber-room when not in use. 

IV. ii. 107. Advise you. Take care. Part of what the 
clown says in the rest of this scene is spoken in the voice 
of Sir Topas. 

IV. ii. 118. Shent. Scolded. 

IV. ii. 137 ff. "I am gone, sir." This is probably another 
old song, though not elsewhere extant. 

IV. ii. 141. Vice. "The established buffoon in the old 
moralities and other imperfect dramas. He had the name 
sometimes of one vice, sometimes of another, but most 
commonly of Iniquity, or vice itself. He was grotesquely 
dressed in a cap with ass's ears, a long coat, and a dagger 
of lath; and one of his chief employments was to make 
sport with the devil, leaping on his back and belaboring 
him with his dagger of lath, till he made him roar. The 
devil, however, always carried him off in the end. . . . His 
successors on the stage were the fools and clowns." Nares's 
Glossary. 

IV. iii. 6. Credit. Belief. 

IV. iii. 12. Instance. Example. Discourse. Reason. 

IV. iii. 21. Deceivable. Deceptive. 

IV. iii. 24. Chantry. Private chapel. 

IV. iii. 29. Whiles. Until. Come to note. Become known. 



ACT V. 

V. i. 1. His. Malvolio's. Cf. IV. ii. 123 ff. 

V. i. 23. Conclusions to be as kisses. Conclusions following 
from premises brought together, as kisses follow from two 
pairs of lips brought together. 

V. i. 24. Your. For this vague colloquial use of your, cf . 
Hamlet, IV. iii. 22-23, "Your worm is your only emperor for 
diet." 

V. i. 35. Your grace. There is here probably a play on 
grace as a theological term and as the title of a duke. 

V. i. 36. It. I.e., ill counsel. 

V. i. 41. Triplex. Triple time in music. 

V. i. 58. Bawbling. Insignificant. 

V. i. 59. Unprizable. Of value not to be estimated, as 



182 NOTES. 

being 1 either too great or too small. The context seems to 
require the latter meaning. 

V. i. 60. Scathful. Destructive. 

V. i. 61. Bottom. Vessel. 

V. i. 65. Fraught. Freight. Candy. Candia or Crete. 

V. i. 68. Desperate of shame and state. Reckless of disgrace 
and position. 

V. i. 69. Brabble. Brawl. 

V. i. 72. Distraction. Madness. 

V. i. 75. Dear. Costly, grievous. The sense of "coming 
home to one intimately' ' is frequent in the Shaksperean use 
of this word. 

V. i. 87. Pure. See Introduction, p. 41, 4, (b). 

V. i. 95. Recommended. Intrusted. 

V. i. 98. Three months. This is, of course, inconsistent 
with the estimate of the time taken by the action founded on 
the hint in I. iv. 3. But Shakspere's reckoning in these 
matters is not mathematical, and the success of his method 
is shown by the fact that the statement in the present passage 
does not surprise us if we follow the play sympathetically. 

V. i. 113. Fat and fulsome. Nauseating. 

V. i. 118. Have. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (b). Many 
editors emend to "hath." 

V. i. 122. Egyptian thief. Thyamis of Memphis, the cap- 
tain of a band of robbers, carried off Chariclea and fell in love 
with her. When, later, he was driven to extremity by a 
stronger band, he attempted to slay her. The story is told 
in the Ethiopica of Heliodorus, a translation of which was 
current in Shakspere's time. 

V. i. 129. Minion. Darling. How had the Duke come to 
know of Olivia's love for Viola? 

V. i. 130. Tender. Regard. 

V. i. 137. To do you rest. To give you ease. [Clar.J 

V. i. 143. Detested. This word probably bears here the 
not uncommon early sense of "repudiated." 

V. i. 151. Strangle thy propriety. Deny thy identity. 

V. i. 160. Contract. This passage, like the speech of 
Olivia in IV. iii. 22 ff, refers to the ceremony of betrothal, 
not of marriage. 

V. i. 164. Ceremony. See Introduction, p. 36, 2. Some 



NOTES. 183 

critics suppose that Shakspere frequently regarded the 
second "e" of this word as silent. Compact. See Introduc- 
tion, p. 37, 6. 

V. i. 165. Function. Official capacity. 

V. i. 169. Case. Skin. Cf. the pun in Winter's Tale, IV. 
iv. 843-44, ■ 'Though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall 
not be flayed out of it." 

V. i. 175. Little. A little, some. 

V. i. 1S6. Incardinate. Sir Andrew's attempt at "incar- 
nate." 

V. i. 188. ^Od^slifelings. A corruption and diminution of 
the oath "God's life." 

V. i. 193. Bespoke. Addressed. Cf . the modern sense. 

V. i. 199. Othergates. In another fashion. 

V. i. 206. Set. Fixed. 

V. i. 207-8. A passy measures pavin. The first Folio reads 
"panin." Most editors emend to "pavin," and take Toby- s 
drunken utterance to refer to a kind of dignified dance, 
implying that the surgeon is "a grave, solemn coxcomb" 
[Malone], or that he is slow in coming [Clar.] R. G. White 
thinks it a misprint for "panim," and reads "a passing 
measure (that is, egregious) paynim." But Sir Toby was 
drunk. 

V. i. 213. An ass-head, etc. These reproaches seem to 
be aimed at Sir Andrew. 

V. i. 219. Strange regard. Distant look. For metre, see 
Introduction, p. 37, 4. 

V. i. 224. Natural perspective. For metre, see Introduction, 
p. 36, 2. Perspective was a general term used for any optical 
device. Here it may mean no more than "mirror." 

V. i. 234-35. That deity . . . of here and everywhere. The 
divine property of omnipresence. 

V. i. 241. Suited. Dressed. 

V. i. 244. Dimension. Bodily shape. Cf. I. v. 292. Grossly. 
Materially. 

V. i. 245. Participate. Possess like other men. 

V. i. 253. Record. For accent, see Introduction, p. 37, 6. 

V. i. 256. Lets. Hinders. 

Y. i. 259. Do. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (b). Jump. 
Agree. 



184 NOTES. 

V. i. 262. Weeds. Garments. For metre, see Introduc- 
tion, p. 37, 5. 

V. i. 266. Mistook. See Introduction, p. 40, 3, (c). 

V. i. 267. Nature to her bias drew. In bowling, the bowls 
u draw to their bias" when they curve in on the side on 
which they are weighted or * 'biassed." In falling in love 
with Sebastian's likeness in Viola, Olivia was following her 
natural affinity for Sebastian. 

V. i. 272. Glass. The * 'perspective" of line 224, above. 

V. i. 278. That orbed continent, etc. Shakspere always uses 
continent in the literal sense of ' 'that which contains. ' ' Here, 
then, it seems to mean the firmament which contains the 
orbs, and among them the fire (the sun) that severs day and 
night. Viola promises to keep her oaths as truly as the firma- 
ment keeps the sun in its path. 

V. i. 282. Upon. On account of . 

V. i. 285. Enlarge. Set at liberty. 

V. i. 288. Extracting. Drawing all other thoughts out of 
my mind. 

V. i. 295. Epistles are no gospels. The reference is, of 
course, to the portions of Scripture appointed to be read in 
church. Skills. Matters. 

V. i. 301. How now. The clown seems to have begun to 
read in some extravagant manner. 

V. i. 304. Vox. Voice ; presumably the appropriate voice 
for such an epistle. 

V. i. 307. Perpend. Weigh, consider. Shakspere uses it 
always as humorous bombast. 

V. i. 326. These things, etc. A nominative absolute. If, 
after you have thought further on these things, it please 
you to think me as desirable for a sister as for a wife. 

V. i. 328. 0?i't. The grammar of this is loose, but the 
sense of "the alliance on't" is clearly "the alliance that 
makes us brother and sister," i.e., the double marriage. 

V. i. 329. Proper. Own. 

V. i. 331. Quits. Sets you free. 

V. i. 342. From it. Differently. 

V. i. 345. Modesty of honour. The sense of propriety that 
belongs to honorable persons. 

V. i. 349. Lighter. Less important. 



NOTES 185 

V. i. 353. Geek. Dupe. 

V. i. 360. Such . . . which. See Introduction, p. 39, 2, (d) . 

V. i. 362. Practice. Plot. Shrewdly. Wickedly. Passed. 
Cf. III. i. 48, note. 

V. i. 366. Brawl to come. Future brawl ; not an infinitive 
after "let." 

V. i. 371-72. Upon some stubborn . . . him. Inconsequence 
of some stubborn and discourteous qualities which we 
charged against him. 

V. i. 373. Importance. Importunity. 

V. i. 393. Convents. Summons. 

V. i. 395. For metre, see Introduction, p. 36, 3. 

V. i. 400 ff. This song is regarded by most editors as not 
by Shakspere, and its introduction here may be due merely 
to the actor. But in the mouth of Feste it does not seem 
out of place or without charm. 



WORD IKDEX. 



Abhors . . . detests, II. v. 223-24. 

abuse, III. i. 123. 

admire, III. iv. 167. 

advanced, II. v. 36. 

advise you, IV. ii. 107. 

affect, II. v. 27. 

affectioned, II. iii. 168. 

after kim, III. iv. 222. 

air and taint, III. iv. 147-48. 

allow, I. ii. 59. 

allowed, I. v. 107. 

alter services, II. v. 173. 

answer, IH. iv. 310. 

answered, III. iii. 28. 

antique, II. iv. 3. 

appetite, I. i. 3. 

approbation, III. iv. 203. 

aqua-vitae, II. v. 219. 

are, II. V. 153. 

Arion, I. ii. 15 

ass, II. iii. 194. 

ass-bead, V. L 213. 

Babbling, III. iv. 395. 

back, III. iv. 64. 

back-trick, I. iii. 133. 

baffle, II. v. 177. 

baited, III. i. 129. 

barful, I. iv. 42. 

barren, I. iii. 87. 

bawbling, V. i. 58. 

bawcock, III. iv. 128. 

beauty's a flower, I. v. 58-59. 

bed of Ware, III. ii. 53. 

behaviour, II. v. 19. 

being, III. iii. 9. 

bent, II. iv. 37. 

bespake, V. i. 193. 

Biddy, come with me, III. iv. 131. 

bird-bolts, I. v. 105. 



blazon, I. v. 324. 

blood, IL v. 159. 

blows, II. v. 47. 

board, I. iii. 62. 

bones, II. iv. 45. 

bosom, III. i. 131. 

botched up, IV. i. 60. 

botcher, I. v. 53. 

bottom, V. i. 61. 

bound, III. i. 83-84. 

brabble, V. i. 69. 

brain, I. i. 37. 

branched, II. v. 52. 

brawl to come, V. i. 366. 

breach of the sea, II. i. 25. 

breast, II. iii. 21 

brock, II. v. 112. 

Brownist, III. ii. 35. 

bum-baily, III. iv. 198. 

burn some sack, II. iii. 215. 

but, I. iv. 14; I. v. 165; I. v. 307; III. 

i. 45. 
buttery-bar, I. iii. 76. 
by your favour, II. iv. 25. 

Canary* I. iii. 88. 
Candy, V. i. 65. 
cantons, I. v. 301. 
cakes and ale, II. iii. 132. 
case, V. i. 169. 
Castiliano vulgo, I. iii. 47. 
Cataian, II. iii. 84. 
catch, II. iii. 19. 
ceremony, V. i. 164. 
chambermaid, I. iii. 56. 
champaign, II. v. 175. 
chantry, IV. iii. 24. 
charges me in manners, II. i. 15. 
checks, II. v. 122. 
cherry-pit, III. iv. 132. 
186 



WORD INDEX. 



187 



cheveril, III. i. 13. 
churchman, III. i. 4. 
civil bounds, I. iv. 22. 
clerestories, IV. ii. 44. 
clodpole. III. iv. 213. 
close, II. v. 23. 
cloynient, II. iv. 100. 
cockatrices, III. iv. 220. 
cockney, IV. i. 15. 
codling, I. v. 175. 
collier, III. iv. 133. 
coloured stock, I. iii. 347. 
come near, III. iv. 71. 
come to note, IV. iii. 29. 
comfortable, I. v. 250. 
commerce, III. iv. 195. 
commodity, III. i. 50. 
compact, V. i. 164. 
competitors, IV. ii. 12. 
comptible, I. v. 197. 
con, I. v. 195. 
conceited, III. iv. 329. 
conclusions • • • , V. i. 23. 
conduct, III. iv. 270. 
consonancy, II. v. 140-41. 
constant question, IV. ii. 57. 
cons state, II. iii. 169. 
constellation, I. iv. 36. 
, contagious breath, II. iii. 59. 
contempt of question, II. v. 95-96. 
contract, V. i. 160. 
convents, V. i. 393. 
coranto, I. iii. 140. 
count, I. iii. 115. 
count his galleys, III. iii. 26. 
county, I. v. 333. 
couplet, III. iv. 419. 
cousin, I. iii. 5. 
coystrill, I. iii. 45. 
coziers', II. iii. 102. 
credit, IV. iii. 6. 

Cressida was a beggar. III. i. 61. 
crowner, I. v. 149. 
crush, II. v. 151. 
cry npon't, II. v. 134. 
cubiculo, III. ii.58. 
cucullus, I . v. 64. 
curl by nature, I. iii. 108. 



curst, III. ii. 46. 

cypress, II. iv. 52; III. i. 131. 

Dam'd coloured stock, I. iii. 

147. 
dark room, III. iv. 151. 
day-bed, II. v. 53. 
dear, V. i. 75. 

dear my sweet, II. v. 195-96. 
deceivable, IV. iii. 21. 
demure • . . regard, II. v. 57. 
denay, II. iv. 125. 
delivered, I. ii. 42. 
Deluculo, etc., II. iii. 3. 
desperate, II. ii. 8; V. i. 68. 
despite, III. iv. 248. 
detested, V. i. 143. 
dexteriousJy, I. v. 69. 
Dieu vous garde, III. i. 77. 
dimension, I. v. 292; V. i. 244. 
discourse, IV. iii. 12. 
discovers, II. v. 175. 
dishonest, I. v. 47. 
dismount thy tuck, III. iv. 249-50. 
distemper, II. i. 5. 
distempered, I. v. 103. 
distraction, V. i. 72. 
divulged, I. v. 291. 
do, V. i. 259. 
dog at, II. iii. 66-67. 
dormouse, III. ii. 20. 
dry, I. iii. 80-84; I. v. 46. 
duello, III. iv. 346. 
dubbed ... , I I. iv. 262-63. 

Egyptian thief, V. i. 122. 
Egyptians in their fog, IV. ii. 

51-52. 
element, I. i. 26. 
employment, II. v. 89. 
encounter, III. i. 80. 
enemy, II. ii. 30. 
enlarge, V. i. 285. 
entertainment, I. v. 242 
epistles, V. i. 295. 
equinoctial, II. iii. 26. 
et vous, etc., III. i. 78. 
except before excepted, I. iii. 7. 



188 



WORD INDEX. 



express, IL i. 16. 
expressure, II. iii. 180. 
extent, IV. i. 57. 

extracting, V. i. 288. 
extravagancy, II. i. 12. 

Fadge, II. ii. 35. 

fall, I. i. 4. 

fancy, I.i. 14; II. v. 29. 

fangs of malice, I. v. 205-206. 

fantastical, I. i. 15. 

"Farewell," etc. II. iii. 116 ff. 

fat and fulsome, V. i. 113. 

faults, II. v. 139. 

favour, II. iv. 24; III. iv. 369, 423. 

fear no colours, I. v. 6. 

feature, III. iv. 406. 

feelingly personated, II. iii. 181-82. 

fine frame, I. i. 33. 

firago, III. iv. 307. 

five wits, IV. ii. 97-98 

flame, I. v. 295. 

flatterer, I. v. 341. 

flatter with, I. v. 335. 

fleshed, IV. i. 43. 

follows, II. v. 31. 

folly-fallen, III. i. 74. 

fond, II.ii.38. 

fools' zanies, I. v. 101. 

for all waters, IV. ii. 72. 

forbid . • . not, II. ii. 20. 

forgive, I. v. 215. 

formal capacity, II. v. 126-27. 

for that, III. i. 165.- 

four elements, II. iii. 10-11. 

fourteen years' purchase, IV. i. 

24-25. 
fraught, V. i. 65. 
free, II. iv. 45. 
from, I. v. 211. 
from it, V. i. 342. 
function, V. i. 165. 
fustian, II. v. 117. 

Galliard, I. iii. 129. 
gaskins, I. v. 28. 
geek, V. i. 353. 
genius, III. i v. 145. 



gentleman much desires, I. v. 

112-13. 
gentleness, II. i. 49. 
giant, I. v. 229. 
glass, V. i. 272. 
golden shaft, I. i. 35. 
good housekeeper, IV. ii. 10-11. 
good my, I. v. 71-72. 
Gorbuduc, IV. ii. 17. 
gospels, V. i. 295. 
gracious, I. v. 293. 
Greek, IV. i. 19. 
grize, III. i. 134. 
gross, II. v. 178. 
grossly, V.i. 244. 
gust, I. iii. 34. 

Haggard, III. i. 70. 

hart, I.i. 17. 

have, V. i. 118. 

he says he'll come. III. iv. 1. 

having, III. iv. 385. 

heart, I.i. 37; IV. i. 63. 

heat, I. v. 146. 

here he comes, I. v. 128. 

hermit of Prague, IV. ii. 15-16. 

"Hey, Robin," IV. ii. 83. 

high fantastical, I. i. 15. 

his, V. i. 1. 

hob nob. III. iv. 268. 

horribly conceited, III. iv. 329. 

horse of that colour, II. iii. 190-91. 

how now, V. i. 301. 

hull, I. V. 228. 

humour, I. iv. 5. 

humour of state, II. v. 56. 

hyperbolical, IV. ii. 30. 

"I am gone, sir," IV. ii. 137. 

idle markets, III. iii. 46. 

image, IH. iv. 402. 

impeticos, II. iii. 29. 

importance, V. i. 373. 

impressure, II. v. 101. 

in contempt of question, II. v 

95-96. 
in grain, I. v. 266. 
in standing water, I. v. 176. 



WORD INDEX. 



189 



incardinate, V. i. 186. 
incredulous, III. iv. 90. 
Indies, III. ii. 88. 
instance, IV. iii. 12. 
intimate, II. v. 91-92. 
into the north, III. ii. 28. 
it, V.i.36. 
item, I. v. 276. 

Jade, II. v. 180. 
jealousy, in. iii. 8. 
jets, II. v. 35. 
jewel, III. iv. 233. 
Jezebel, II. v. 46. 
jump, V.i.259. 

Kickshawses, I. iii. 124. 
kisses, V. i. 23. 

Labelled, I. v. 276. 

Lady of the Strachy II. v. 43-44. 

lapsed, III. iii. 36. 

leasing, I. v. 110. 

leman, II. iii. 28. 

lenten, I. v. 9. 

Lethe, IV. i. 66. 

lets, V. i. 256. 

lighter, V. i. 349. 

like, III. i. 144. 

limed, III. iv. 83. 

list, III. i. 84. 

little, V. i. 175. 

liver, I.i.37. 

lived, I. ii. 14. 

lost, II. ii.22. 

Lucrece, II. v. 102. 

lying, III. iv. 395. 

M, O, A, I, II. v. 116. 
madonna, I. v. 48. 
maidenhead, I. v. 244. 
malapert, IV. i. 47. 
manifests, II. v. 184. 
maugre, III. i. 162. 
May morning. III. iv. 159. 
me, I. ii. 53; III. ii. 36. 
mellow, I. ii. 43. 



metal of India, II. v. 16. 

midsummer madness, III. iv. 61. 

minion, V. i. 129. 

miscarry, III. iv. 70. 

misprision, I. v. 63. 

mistook, V. i. 266. 

Mistress Mall's picture, I. iii. 

137-38. 
modest, I. iii. 9; I. v. 201. 
modesty of honour, V. i. 345. 
motion, II. iv. 99. 
motions, II. iv. 18. 
mouse of virtue, I. v. 72. 
murder me, II. i. 39. 
music from the spheres, III. i. 

119. 
mute, I. ii. 62. 
my — , II. v. 65. 

Natural, I. iii. 31. 

natural perspective, V. i. 224. 

nature to her bias, V. i. 267. 

nayword, II. iii. 153. 

new map, III. ii. 87. 

nightingales answer daws, III. 

iv. 38-39. 
noblest (heart), I. i. 18. 
not all love, III. iii. 6. 
nor no, I. v. 108. 
nor . . . not, II. i. 1 ; III. iv. 167. 
notoriously, IV. ii. 99. 
numbers altered, II. v. 110. 
nuncio, I. iv. 29. 

O mistress mine, II. iii. 43 ft. 

od's lifelings, V. i. 188. 

of, III. iv. 2. 

old age, II. iv. 48. 

olive, I. v. 237. 

on a forgotten matter, II. iii. 183. 

on't, III. iv. 227; V. i. 328. 

opinion of Pythagoras, IV. ii. 58. 

opposite, II. v. 162. 

orbed continent, V. i. 278. 

out, II. iii. 210. 

othergates, V. i. 199. 

O, the twelfth, II. iii. 95. 



190 



WORD INDEX. 



overture, I. v. 236. 
owe, I. v. 342. 

Pair of these, III. i. 55. 

Pandarus, III. i. 57. 

parish top, I. iii. 47. 

participate, V. i. 245. 

pass upon, III. i. 48. 

passages of grossness, III. ii. 79. 

passed, V. i. 362. 

passy measures pavin, V. i. 207, 

208. 
pedant, III. ii. 82. 
peevish, I. v. 331. 
Peg-a-Ramsey, II. iii. 85. 
peevishly, II. ii. 15. 
Penthesilea, II. iii. 202. 
perchance, I. ii. 5. 
perpend, V. i. 307. 
persuaded of himself, II. iii. 170-71. 
pia mater, I. v. 129. 
picture of "we three," II. iii. 18. 
Pigrogromitus, II. iii. 25. 
pilchards, III. L 39. 
pitch, I. i. 12. 
plague, I. iii. 1. 
please one, III. iv. 25-26. 
point-devise, IL v. 179. 
points, I. v. 26. 
politic, II. v. 177. 
politician, III. ii. 35. 
propertied, IV. ii. 104. 
possess us, II. iii. 157. 
practice, V. i. 362. 
praise, I. v. 280. 
pregnant, IL ii. 30; III. i.97. 
presently, III. iv. 222. 
prevented, III. i. 91. 
profound heart, I. v. 205. 
proper, III. i. 143; V. i. 329. 
proper-false, II. ii. 31. 
prove, III. iv. 425. 
pure, V. i. 87. 
put down, I. iii. 89. 
Pythagoras, IV. ii. 58. 

Queubus, II. iii. 26. 
quick, I. i. 9. 



Quinapalus, I. v. 40. 
quirk, III. iv. 273. 
quits, V. i. 331. 

Recollected terms, II. iv. 5. 
recommended, V. i. 95. 
record, V.i. 253. 
recover, II. iii. 209. 
regard, II. v. 71. 
receiving, III. i. 130. 
religious in it, III. iv. 432-33. 
reliques, III. iii. 19. 
retention, II. iv. 97. 
reverberate, I. v. 303. 
round, II. iii. 108. 
rub your chain, II. iii. 135-36. 
rubious, I. iv. 33. 
rudesby, IV. i. 55. 

Sad, III. iv. 5. 
said, IV. ii. 10. 
scathful, V. i. 60. 
scout me, III. iv. 197. 
self, I.i.39. 
semblative, I. iv. 35. 
set, V.i. 206. 

seven years' heat, I. i. 26. 
shall I to, II. iv. 123. 
she, I. v. 270. 

she were better, II. ii. 28. 
sheep-biter, II. v. 6. 
shent, IV. ii.118. 
sheriff's post, I. v. 164. 
shrewdly, V. i. 362. 
shrewishly, I. v. 178. 
silly-sooth, II. iv. 46. 
since bonds, III. i. 23-24. 
sinister usage, I. v, 197. 
sir priest, III. iv. 303. 
Sir Topas, IV. ii. 2. 
skills, V.i. 295. 
'slid, III. iv. 434. 
'slight, II. v.37; III. ii. 13. 
slough, H. V. 161. 
smiling, II. iv. 116. 
sneck-up, II. iii. 107. 
so, II. ii. 13. 
so do not I, III. iv. 415. 



WORD INDEX. 



191 



so hardy to come, II. ii. 10-11. 

so please, I. i. 24. 

song, II. iv. 51 ff. 

Sophy, II. v. 201; III. iv. 313. 

sound, I. i. 5; I. iv. 34. 

Sowter, II. V. 134. 

speaks . . . madman, I. v. 119- 

120. 
spinster, II. iv. 44. 
spleen, III. it 74. 
spoke, I.iv.21; I. v. 126. 
squash, I. v. 174. 
stake, III. i. 128. 
state, I. V. 309; II. v. 49. 
stanlel, II. v. 122. 
stone-bow, II. v. 50. 
stoup, II. iii. 15. 
stout, II. v. 188. 
strange, II. v. 188. 
strange regard, V. i. 219. 
strangle thy propriety, V. i. 151. 
strife, I.iv. 42. 
stuck, III. iv. 309. 
substractors, I. iii. 38. 
such estimable wonder, II. i. 31.. 
such . . . which, V. i. 360. 
suited, V. i. 241. 
sure, II. ii. 22. 
swabber, I. v. 228. 
swarths, II. iii. 170. 
sways she level, II. iv. 31. 
sweet and twenty, II. iii. 55. 

Tabor, III. i. 2. 

taffeta, II. iv. 75. 

taint their wit, III. i. 74. 

take up, III. iv. 326. 

tall, I. iii. 21. 

tang arguments of state, II. v. 

163-64. 
Tartar, II. v. 230. 
taste, III. i. 85. 
Taurus, I. iii. 149. 
taxation, I. v. 236. 
tell me your mind, I. v. 230. 
tender, V. i. 130. 
v testril, II. iii. 37. 
thanks. Too, III. iii. 15. 



that, II. iv. 100. 

that deity . . . , V. i. 234-35. 

that orbed continent, V. i. 278. 

the like, I. ii. 21. 

the old age, II. iv. 48. 

* 'There dwelt . . . ," II. iii, 88-89. 

there is . . . sides, II. iv. 94. 

these set kind, I. v. 100. 

these things, V. i. 326. 

this present, I. v. 263-64. 

this simulation, II. v. 150. 

those poor number, I. ii. It. 

thought, II. iv. 113. 

thought is free, I. iii. 75. 

thou'st, III.ii.49. 

"Three merry men be we," II. 

iii. 85-86. 
three months, V. i. 98. 
three souls, II. iii. 64. 
thriftless, II. ii. 41. 
tilly vally, II. iii. 87-88. 
time of moon, I. v. 224. 
to do you rest, V. i. 137. 
to force, III. i. 126. 
tongues, I. iii. 102-108. 
took, I. v. 294. 
trade, III. i. 81. 
travel of regard, II. v. 57. 
tray-trip, II. v. 211. 
trick of singularity, II. v. 165. 
triplex, V. i. 41. 
trunks o'er flourished, III. iv. 

410. 
turned into a hart, I. i. 21. 
turning away, I. v. 22. 

Uncivil rule, II. iii. 139-49. 

undertaker, III. iv. 357. 

ungird thy strangeness, IV. i. 16. 

ungracious, IV.i.51. 

unhatched, III. i v. 262. 

unkind, III. iv. 408. 

unmuzzled, III. i. 129. 

upon, V. i. 282. 

upon some stubborn, V. i. 371-72. 

unprizable, V. i. 59. 

use, HI. i. 56. 

utters, II. iii. 169. 



4 -~ 



192 



WORD INDEX. 



Vainness, III. iv. 395. 
validity, I. i. 12. 
Vapians, II. iii. 25. 
venerable, III. iv. 403. 
vice, IV. ii. 141. 
viol-de~gamboys, I. iii. 28. 
voices, I. v. 291. 
Vox, V. i. 304. 
vulgar proof, III. i. 134. 

Ways, II. v. 1. 

we three, II. iii. 18. 

wears she to, II. iv. 30. 

weeds, V.i.262. 

welkin, II. iii. 62. 

welkin , . . element, III. i. 64-65. 

well d-oae, I. v. 264. 



3l2<ft>L 
tot 

I 



were best, III. iv. 12. 
whiles, IV. iii. 29. 
will on, I. v. 212. 
willow, I. v. 299. 
windy, III. iv. 184. 
with, I. v. 95. 
witty, I. v. 40. 
woodcock, II. v. 90; IV. ii. 
worth, III, iii. 17. 



Yard, III. i v. 250. 

yet living, III. iv. 422. 

you, I. v.281. 

you were best, I. v. 35. 

youngest wren of nine, III. if. 72. 

your, V. i. 24. 

your grace, V. i. 35. 



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